TROOPER  ROSS 

AND 

SIGNAL  BUTTE 

GENERAL  CHARLES  KING 


r  <2)  /iV  /? 


t^L,  c-Z.-.    ■.  uUi^^ 


-fum, 


^  Q 


'Oh,   murther,  murther,   Koddie  boy,  what  vilhiln  let  yt>u  across 
river?" 


TROOPER  ROSS 

AND 

SIGNAL   BUTTE 


BY 

CAPTAIN  CHARLES  KING 
U.  S.  A. 


illustrated  by 
Charles  H.  Stephens 


PHILADELPHIA 

.r   B.  LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY 
1908 


COPTBIGHT,    18^6>' 

'    y.  B.  L'ippincott  Compaq. 


ELECTflOTYPEB  AND   PRINTED  BY  J.    B.   LiPPlNCOTT  COMPANY,   Ph.UDEUPH.A,   U.S.A. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAQE 

"  Oh,  murther,  murther.  Koddie  boy,  what  villain  let  you  across 

the  river?" Frontispiece. 

The  next  thing  he  knew  he  had  shot  over  the  cracking  edge    .    .    107 

Collaring  both,  a  muscular  hand  to  each,  he  half  pushed,  haJf 

dragged  them  out  of  the  way 150 

The  two  riders  wave  rejoicingly  their  fur  caps  in  answer  to  the 

frantic  cheers  from  the  hither  shore 177 

From  the  dark  low  ground  to  the  west  came  the  lithe,  swarthy 

young  courier  himself 216 

The  trail  clambered  to  a  projecting  point,  commanding  a  view  of 

the  canon  for  two  miles 272 


Mi3i)49 


»-.■< 


TROOPER  ROSS. 


CHAPTER   I. 

There  was  a  scene  of  wild  excitement  one 
summer's  night  at  old  Fort  Frayne.  With  the 
exception  of  one  company  of  infantry,  the  entire 
garrison  was  in  the  field.  The  families  of  some 
of  the  officers  had  been  sent  East  for  the  time 
being,  because  every  one  realized  that  a  long  and 
arduous,  probably  dangerous,  campaign  was  in 
the  wind,  and  no  post  in  all  the  wide  North-west 
was  in  so  exposed  a  position.  It  lay  in  the  very 
heart  of  what  had  been  the  Sioux  country.  The 
Indians  loved  the  mountains  that  loomed  up  to 
the  southward  of  the  old  stockade,  and  resented 
it  that  they  were  forced  by  treaty  stipulations  to 
keep  on  the  north  side  of  the  river  that  swept  in 
grand  semicircle  around  the  bold  bluff  whereon 
stood   the  fort.     Ever  since  the  grass   began  to 


4:^^^'J.i':':l.     ;  /•      TROOPER  ROSS. 

peep  had  tliey  been  swarming  to  join  the  hostile 
camps  hidden  far  up  among  the  fastnesses  of  the 
Big  Horn  Mountains  and  in  the  deep  valleys  of 
the  Rosebud  and  the  Deje  Agie ;  and  even  while 
by  thousands  the  young  warriors  gathered  about 
the  war  chiefs  of  their  tribes  and  covered  the 
whole  country  beyond  Crazy  Woman's  Fork  and 
rode  like  red  scarecrows  all  over  the  miles  and 
miles  of  broad  trails  that  led  from  the  reserva- 
tions in  North-western  Nebraska,  smaller  bands, 
swift,  agile,  daring,  kept  twinkling  into  view  of 
the  sentries  at  Frayne,  Fetterman,  and  Laramie, 
sometimes  fording  or  swimming  the  stream  and 
raiding  far  down  to  the  settlements  and  ranches 
on  the  Chug,  killing  and  scalping  the  men,  bear- 
ing away  women  and  children,  running  off  herds 
of  cattle,  and  later,  daring  even  to  creep  close  to 
the  stockades  themselves  at  night  and  shout  chal- 
lenge and  defiance  in  stentorian  tones  to  the  sol- 
diery of  the  depleted  garrisons. 

But  there  were  many  of  the  officers'  families 
that  were  far  too  poor  to  afford  the  costly  journey 
to  the  East,  and  there  were  others  that  would  not 
have  gone  even  could  they  have  afforded  it,  and 
of  these  latter  were  the  wife  and  child  of  Captain 
Boss.  A  "  first-class  soldier"  was  the  captain,  a 
soldier  educated  at  West  Point,  and  the  son  of  a 
soldier  who  had  died  at  the  head  of  his  company 
charging  the  Mexican   line  within  sight  of  the 


TROOPEE  ROSS.  5 

walls  of  the  capital.  He  loved  his  profession, 
gloried  in  the  efficiency  and  reputation  of  the 
troop  he  commanded,  was  proud  of  his  regiment, 
and  had  no  hope  or  ambition  that  was  not  centred 
in  them  and  in  the  little  family  dependent  upon 
him.  Mrs.  Ross  was,  at  times,  a  brave  and  cheery 
little  woman,  almost  as  brave  as  lived  in  all  our 
little  army,  and  as  proud  of  her  soldier  husband 
as  he  was  of  his  troop,  but  during  his  enforced 
absence  in  the  field  and  in  the  midst  of  all  the 
dangers  which  surrounded  him  her  heart  some- 
times failed  her.  As  she  expressed  it  herself,  she 
was  apt  to  "  lose  her  nerve"  and  to  become  to  the 
full  as  timid  and  hysterical  as  some  of  the  younger 
matrons  of  the  garrison.  But  the  hearts  of  both 
herself  and  her  husband  were  bound  up  in  their 
one  remaining  child,  their  only  son,  a  sturdy, 
healthful,  hearty  little  scamp,  barely  nine  years 
old  at  the  outbreak  of  this  eventful  summer,  the 
boy  who  became  the  central  figure  of  the  wild 
excitement  at  Frayne  this  summer's  night,  and 
from  that  time  forth  the  hero  of  many  a  story 
told  at  many  an  army  fireside,  and  of  these  stories 
none  were  so  long  as  this  which  you  are  now 
invited  to  read,  for  it  includes  many  of  the  others. 
They  had  taken  to  calling  him  "  Buster"  when 
he  was  a  four-year-old,  and  the  name  clung  to 
him,  and  he  rather  liked  it.  His  own  name,  that 
which  was  given  him  in  honor  of  his  distinguished 
1* 


6  TROOPER  ROSS. 

grandsire,  was  rather  too  high-flown  for  garrison 
use.  It  was  the  name  that  now,  however,  his 
father  much  desired  to  have  him  called  by.  The 
playful  pet  name  of  his  baby  days,  though  still 
appropriate  in  the  opinion  of  Fort  Frayne,  con- 
veyed too  little  of  the  dignity  that  should  hedge 
an  officer's  son,  and  the  men  of  "  B"  Troop  had 
already  learned  that  they  could  easily  find  the  soft 
side  of  their  energetic  commander  by  referring  to 
the  little  boy  as  Master  Roderick.  Oddly  enough, 
or  jDerhaps  characteristically  enough,  he  being  a 
boy  with  views  of  his  own,  the  main  obstacle  to 
reformation  in  this  respect  lay  with  Hod  himself, 
who  stoutly  maintained  that  Buster  was  the  name 
he  had  first  got  to  know  himself  by,  the  one  he 
was  accustomed  to,  and  if  they  didn't  want  him 
called  that,  said  he,  why  on  earth  did  they  ever 
give  it  to  him  ?  especially  when  he  was  a  baby  and 
knew  no  better.  "  Boderick  sounds  stuck-up,"  he 
added,  with  a  pout,  "  and  I  like  Buster  best  any- 
how." 

And  this  lovely  June  evening  Buster  had  the 
blues.  It  was  nearly  nine  o'clock  and  still  faintly 
light.  He  had  been  out  hunting  gophers  down 
the  bluif  all  the  summer  morning,  had  been 
required  by  his  devoted  mother  to  take  an  after- 
noon nap,  had  slept  through  an  important  event, 
the  arrival  of  a  courier  from  the  field  column  with 
a  bagful   of  letters  and   a  hatful   of  holes,  and 


TEOOPEE  EOSS.  7 

now  this  gallant  fellow,  Downey  by  name,  was 
lying  in  hospital  faint  with  loss  of  blood,  for  one 
bullet  had  missed  the  hat  and  hit  his  shoulder, 
and  still  he  had  managed  to  outstrip  his  foes  and 
ride  to  safety,  though  his  gallant  horse  would 
never  race  again.  What  was  of  even  greater  con- 
sequence, however,  Corporal  Billy  O'Toole,  Bus- 
ter's own  particular  friend  and  confidant,  who  had 
been  sent  in  from  the  Crazy  Horse  fight  in  March 
with  a  fractured  arm,  and  had  been  looking  for  a 
chance  to  get  back  to  the  command  ever  since  his 
discharge  from  hospital,  had  volunteered  to  make 
the  attempt  to  ride  through  the  Indian  scouting 
parties  and  carry  despatches  to  the  field  column 
long  two  hundred  miles  away.  It  wasn^t  that 
Corporal  Billy  should  be  going  on  this  desperate 
mission  that  made  Buster  miserable :  it  was  that 
Billy  couldn't  and  wouldn't  take  him  too. 

Like  most  army  boys  of  those  days.  Buster  had 
his  Indian  pony,  and  like  not  a  few  of  their  num- 
ber, his  own  theories  of  Indian  warfare  and  Indian 
character.  These  theories  were  not  in  all  cases 
reliable,  but  they  were  no  more  absurd  than  those 
of  many  older  and  more  influential  citizens  who 
lived  farther  from  the  Indians  and  nearer  the 
powers  at  Washington.  Buster  believed  his  pony 
could  best  any  Indian's  pony,  and  he  himself 
could  lick  any  Indian  except  Crazy  Horse.  He 
drew  the  line  at  Chunka  Wiltko,  because  Chunk 


8  TROOPEK   EOSS. 

had  outwitted  a  colonel  and  lots  of  cavalrymen 
that  bitter  cold  day  of  the  17th  of  March,  and 
was  a  splendid,  daring,  fighting  warrior,  who,  per- 
hajDS,  could  get  away  with  his  weight  in  white  men. 
'"Course,"  said  Buster,  "I  don't  mean  I  could 
fight  a  whole  lot  of  Indians,  but  any  one  of  them 
that  got  within  reach  of  my  gun  would  be  dead 
before  he  could  wink,"  and  "my  gun"  was  a 
diminutive  target  rifle  which  fired  a  pellet  of  lead 
the  size  of  a  quinine  pill  with  remarkable  accuracy 
for  a  distance  of  nearly  fifty  yards,  and  Buster 
shot  straight,  too,  for  a  boy  of  nine.  He  had  a 
famous  imagination,  had  Buster,  and  not  infre- 
quently had  come  galloping  into  the  post  panting 
as  hard  as  his  pony,  and  frightening  the  little  girls 
and  boys  in  the  neighboring  quarters  with  tre- 
mendous tales  of  Indian  war-parties  swimming 
the  Platte  two  miles  up-stream  or  of  signal 
smokes  in  the  Medicine  Bow,  whose  meaning  he 
professed  to  read  as  readily  as  other  boys  could 
their  primers.  Yes,  it  must  be  admitted  that  when 
Buster  was  a  little  boy  he  told  the  biggest  kind 
of  sensational  stories,  but  he  believed  them,  or 
most  of  them,  and  he  believed  thoroughly  in 
himself.  Once  when  some  Arapahoe  Indians 
were  camped  on  the  flats  down  by  the  river,  Billy 
O'Toole  rode  down  with  Buster  and  challenged 
some  of  the  little  Indian  boys  to  shoot  at  a  mark, 
and  they  did,  and  were  badly  beaten,  for  Buster 


TKOOPEK  EOSS.  9 

had  a  wonderfully  keen  eye  and  a  steady  hand, 
and  both  with  bow  and  arrow  and  his  little  target 
rifle  could  shoot  admirably.  This  exploit  made 
him  famous  at  the  fort,  for  you  may  be  sure  that 
Corporal  Billy  lost  no  opportunity  of  dilating 
upon  it  in  the  presence  of  his  protege's  devoted 
mother  or  in  the  hearing  of  his  proud  papa. 
Neither,  for  that  matter,  did  Buster  fall  far  behind 
when  it  came  to  telling  of  this  archery  contest, 
and  other  little  boys  were  not  a  little  envious,  and 
other  little  boys'  mothers  wondered,  you  may  be 
sure,  how  Captain  and  Mrs.  Ross  could  let  their 
only  child  spend  so  much  time  with  uneducated, 
irresponsible  persons  like  Corporal  O'Toole,  and 
in  visiting  Indian  villages  where  everything  was 
so  dirty  and  disreputable.  But  Captain  Ross  did 
what  few  other  fathers  in  old  Fort  Frayne  did. 
Regularly  every  day,  when  he  was  not  absent  on 
duty,  he  took  his  little  son  for  an  hour's  ride. 
Even  in  severe  and  stormy  weather  the  big 
trooper  on  his  pet  Kentucky  horse  and  the  ruddy 
little  son  on  his  Indian  pony  would  go  trotting 
out  of  the  garrison  and  come  back  glowing  and 
healthful,  and  it  was  only  when  papa  was  away 
that  Buster  spent  so  much  time  with  O'Toole. 
Besides,  Corporal  Billy  was  very  proud  of  his 
charge,  very  careful  of  the  boy — and  his  own  lan- 
guage— ^when  thus  intrusted  with  his  care.  He 
taught  him  many  things,  too :  how  to  ride  bare- 


10  TROOPER  ROSS. 

back  Indian-fashion,  how  to  make  the  pony  lie 
down,  how  to  make  him  stand  near  by  while 
Buster  dismounted  to  shoot  at  sage-hens  or  occa- 
sional antelope  (not  that  he  ever  got  near  enough 
to  these  latter  to  reach  them  with  his  tiny  Bal- 
lard), how  to  make  him  swim  the  Platte  or  go  up 
hill  or  down  like  a  mountain  goat.  That  pony, 
said  Buster,  knew  more  than  any  two  horses  at 
Fort  Frayne,  and  a  good  deal  more  than  any 
other  boy's.  O'Toole  would  have  backed  Buster 
to  ride  a  race  against  any  of  the  Indian  urchins, 
but  this  Mrs.  Ross  forbade.  She  drew  the  line 
at  further  contests  between  Buster  and  the  little 
breech-clouted  heathen  in  the  frowsy  tepees  down 
on  the  fiats,  and  so  the  Arapahoes  went  away 
without  getting  a  bet  out  of  Billy  in  something 
they  could  do  better  than  shoot,  and  that  was  ride. 
But  Buster  believed  he  would  have  won,  and 
bragged  accordingly,  and  as  we  shall  see  not 
entirely  without  reason,  for  the  boy  was  a  born 
horseman  if  nothing  else,  and  well  was  it  destined 
to  help  him  in  the  hour  of  need. 

Knowing,  therefore,  that  he  could  shoot  better 
than  the  Arapahoe  boys,  believing  their  boastful 
stories  (Indians  can  out-brag  any  bipeds  on  earth) 
that  they  could  out- shoot  the  Sioux,  Buster's  con- 
fidence extended  still  further,  as  we  have  seen. 
He  believed  he  could  shoot  or  ride  as  well  as  any 
of  the  young  men  in  any  of  the  tribes,  and  that 


TKOOPER   ROSS.  H 

if  it  ever  came  to  a  fair  fight  with  guns  and  pistols 
he  could  hold  his  own  with  the  best  of  the  red 
warriors  provided  they  came  singly,  ani  stoutly 
maintained  that  he  would  be  glad  of  a  chance  to 
show  what  he  was  made  of. 

And  this  particular  night  in  June  he  was  ready 
to  cry  his  young  heart  out  because  Billy  O'Toole 
was  going  to  leave  on  this  perilous  mission  and  he 
was  forbidden  to  say  another  word  about  going, 
too ;  for,  just  think  of  it,  no  sooner  did  he  hear 
that  the  corporal  was  to  go,  this  little  scamp  of  a 
nine-year-old  flew  to  his  mother  and  demanded 
that  he  be  allowed  to  accompany  him  and  join  his 
father  in  the  field,  which,  of  course,  was  utterly 
out  of  the  question. 

Nine  o'clock  had  come.  The  old  major  com- 
manding the  post  was  saying  a  few  parting  words 
to  the  brave  young  Irish  trooper  who  had  come  to 
report  for  orders  before  mounting.  They  were 
standing  at  the  gate-way  of  the  major's  quarters, 
the  adjutant  in  close  attendance,  one  or  two  sym- 
pathizing fellows  looking  wistfully  on  from  the 
porch  of  the  adjutant's  office  across  the  dim, 
moonlit  parade,  a  dozen  army  wives  and  daugh- 
ters grouped  about  the  neighboring  piazzas,  seem- 
ing to  have  no  thought  but  for  the  husbands  and 
fathers  in  the  field  and  the  courier  who  had  thus 
offered  himself  for  the  perilous  attempt  to  run  the 
gauntlet  through   the  intervening  wilds.     Their 


12  TROOPER   ROSS. 

soft  voices  were  hushed,  the  ripple  of  their  laugh- 
ter, usually  so  blithe  and  merry,  was  stilled  to- 
night, and  the  only  sound  that  seemed  to  break 
the  stillness  of  the  broad  expanse,  between  the 
snow-capped  pinnacles  of  Cloud  Peak  far  to  the 
north  and  the  black  crests  of  the  Medicine  Bow 
to  the  southward,  was  the  murmuring  rush  of  the 
river  over  its  stony  bed  and  the  distant  yelp  of 
the  prairie-wolf,  skulking  among  the  sage  brush  on 
the  other  shore. 

Gray-haired  and  yet  sturdy  and  erect,  the  old 
soldier,  it  could  be  seen,  was  saying  some  low- 
toned  words,  probably  of  caution,  to  the  trooper 
who  stood  respectfully  at  attention  before  him. 
Once  or  twice  the  major  raised  his  hand  as  though 
to  emphasize  his  words,  and  once  he  turned  and 
pointed  to  where,  unseen  yet  ever  constant,  the 
huge  shoulders  of  the  Big  Horn  range  lay  sleep- 
ing under  the  northern  stars.  And  then  from  the 
direction  of  the  cavalry  stables  a  man  came  lead- 
ing a  saddled  horse  and  stopped  before  the  major's 
gate.  "  It's  Buford,"  murmured  one  of  the  ladies, 
standing  with  Mrs.  Koss  on  the  veranda  next  to 
the  commanding  officer's.  "  He  means  to  trust  to 
speed  entirely.  See,  he  hasn't  even  a  great-coat 
or  blanket." 

"No,  and  he  doesn't  carry  a  carbine,"  said 
Buster's  mother.  "  Perhaps  he's  right.  It  would 
be  of  little  use  against  the  whole  band.     Buford's 


TKOOPEK  ROSS.  13 

heels  are  his  best  safety,  and  the  less  he  has  to 
carry  the  faster  he  can  run.  Why,  he's  mounting 
already." 

True  enough,  as  though  wishing  to  avoid  fur- 
ther words  or  farewells,  O'Toole  had  brought  his 
hand  to  his  battered  hat-brim  in  soldierly  salute, 
faced  about  the  instant  the  major  had  finished, 
and,  merely  strapping  down  the  flap  of  his  saddle- 
bags after  inserting  the  last  packet  of  letters  he 
had  received,  threw  his  leg  over  Buford  and 
turned  to  go.  But  even  this  little  delay  had  given 
them  time.  Down  they  came,  ladies  and  children, 
to  wish  him  God-speed  and  good-by.  It  was  the 
very  thing  poor  Billy  wanted  to  avoid,  yet  what 
could  he  do  but  stop,  for  kindly  voices  were  call- 
ing his  name  and  soft  tear-dimmed  eyes  were 
gazing  up  at  him. 

"Now,  do  be  cautious,  corporal.  Please  run 
into  no  danger,"  were  the  words  addressed  him  by 
one  of  the  most  impractical  of  all  the  girls  at 
Frayne,  as  though  she  did  not  know  that  one 
could  not  so  much  as  venture  to  the  north  bank 
of  the  stream  without  running  imminent  risk. 
At  any  other  time  all  would  have  laughed  at  the 
incongruity  of  the  words;  now  all  were  far  too 
anxious  and  troubled. 

"  Never  fear,  ma'am,  I'll  get  through  all  right," 
said  Billy,  trying  hard  to  release  the  hand  to 
which  little  Mary  Crane,  the  major's  twelve-year- 


14  TKOOPEE  EOSS. 

old  daughter,  was  clinging.  "Say  good-by  to 
]\Tasther  B — Koderick,  ma'am,  please ;  an'  it's  fine 
accounts  I'll  be  givin'  the  captain  of  him  four 
days  from  now." 

And  then  for  the  first  time  it  occurred  to  them 
that  Buster  was  not  there  to  bid  his  friend  good-by. 
That  was,  indeed,  extraordinary.  "  Where  can  he 
be  ?"  said  Mrs.  Ross,  in  genuine  alarm.  "  I  left 
him  on  the  sofa,  in  the  sulks,  not  ten  minutes  ago ; 
but  it  isn't  possible  he  hasn't  come  out  to  say  fare- 
well to  O'Toole." 

Letting  go  the  corporal's  hand,  Mary  Crane  and 
a  little  friend  rushed  at  top  speed  into  the  Rosses' 
yard  and  up  the  steps.  Another  minute  and  one 
of  them  reappeared  on  the  veranda.  "He  isn't 
anywhere  here,"  she  cried.  "  We've  hunted  every 
nook  and  corner."  Then  mamma  ran  in  and 
joined  them,  and  presently  her  voice  could  be 
heard  loudly  crying  his  name.  No  answer.  Si- 
lence everywhere. 

"I  can't  wait.  I  must  go,  ma'am,"  pleaded 
O'Toole  to  the  lady  who  still  held  by  the  bridle. 
"  I  should  have  been  out  of  sight  across  the  Platte 
five  minutes  ago.  Good-by  now,"  he  added ;  and 
then  whirled  his  horse  about,  and  in  defiance  of 
cavalry  precedent  and  regulation,  went  cantering 
down  the  slope. 

He  carried  neither  carbine  nor  rifle,  as  has  been 
remarked.     He  was  weighted  with  no  "prairie" 


TROOPER  EOSS.  15 

belt  crammed  with  heavy  copper  cartridges.  His 
saddle  was  a  trimmed-down  McClellan  tree,  devoid 
of  straps  for  coats  and  blankets,  but  a  pair  of 
light  saddle-bags  hung  from  the  cantle.  A  haver- 
sack with  two  days'  supply  of  hard  bread,  bacon, 
coffee,  salt,  and  sugar  was  swung  on  the  left  side, 
and  a  felt-covered  canteen,  a  smoke-begrimed  tin 
quart  mug,  and  a  stout  lariat  and  picket-pin  hung 
on  the  other.  As  for  the  corporal  himself,  his 
dress  consisted  of  light  shoes,  Shoshone  leggings, 
a  pair  of  snugly-fitting  cavalry  breeches,  as  was 
the  fashion  of  the  day,  dark-blue  flannel  shirt 
with  rolling  collar,  and  a  knotted  silk  handker- 
chief at  the  throat,  a  battered  felt  scouting  hat,  a 
relic  of  the  Apache  campaigns,  and  not  another 
sign  of  uniform  about  him.  A  light  leather  belt 
for  pistol  cartridges  and  his  revolver  holster 
swung  at  his  waist,  but  even  the  gauntlets  were 
discarded.  Even  the  revolver  was  not  so  much 
for  the  foe  in  case  he  was  cut  off  or  run  down. 
Terrible  experiences  had  taught  the  officers  and 
men  of  his  regiment,  and  many  another,  that  in 
warfare  with  our  savage  tribes  the  one  thing  that 
must  never  be  allowed  to  happen  was  capture 
alive.  The  revolver  was  for  himself,  though  its 
last  shot  was  never  meant  to  be  turned  heartward 
until  some  at  least  had  been  sent  in  face  of  the 
foe.  The  fearful  hours  of  agonizing  torture  to 
which  prisoners  were  subjected  when  captured  by 


16  TKOOPEK  EOSS. 

the  Indians  of  America  no  pen  could  well  portray, 
and  no  man  could  read  without  horror  the  stories 
were  they  really  told. 

It  was  only  a  little  after  nine  when  the  hoof- 
beats  died  away  down  the  winding  road  that  led 
to  the  ferry,  where  a  bulky  old  scow  did  duty  as 
ferry-boat,  and  was  pulled  to  and  fro  across  the 
Platte  without  loosing  the  grasp  of  her  trolleys 
upon  the  heavy  guy  rope.  Listening  for  a  mo- 
ment to  the  hearty  voices  of  the  garrison  soldiers 
stringing  along  the  roadside  to  bid  adieu  to  their 
popular  comrade  of  the  cavalry,  the  anxious  group 
of  ladies  and  children  clustered  about  the  major 
and  his  young  adjutant,  while  some  of  their  num- 
ber, with  bowed  head  and  tearful  eyes,  walked 
slowly  home.  Mrs.  Ross  had  already  gone.  The 
moment  it  was  announced  that  Buster  was  no 
longer  in  the  little  parlor  she  had  hastened  to 
search  for  him,  and  even  as  O'Toole  rode  sturdily 
away  upon  his  perilous  mission  her  voice,  clear 
and  ringing,  yet  plaintive  in  its  evident  anxiety, 
could  be  heard  calling  loudly  for  her  boy.  "  Rod- 
die !  Koddie !"  she  cried,  up  and  down  stairs,  out 
on  the  rear  porch  overlooking  his  own  little  play- 
ground, the  back-yard.  Then,  candle  in  hand, 
she  darted  to  the  upper  rooms,  half  praying,  half 
hoping,  she  might  find  him,  sobbing  in  wrathful 
petulance, — spoiled  boy  that  he  was, — in  his  own 
little  bed.     But   it  was   unrumpled.     The  room 


TROOPEK  ROSS.  17 

was  dark  and  deserted.  She  ransacked  the  closet, 
peered  under  the  furniture,  still  half  believing 
that  Buster  might  only  be  in  hiding,  but  not  a 
sign  of  Buster  was  there  high  or  low  about  the 
house.  Meantime,  her  old  cook  had  joined  the 
search,  and  was  loudly  proclaiming  her  indigna- 
tion over  the  misconduct  of  her  associate,  half 
nurse,  half  housemaid,  who,  poor  girl,  was  sob- 
bing out  her  own  heart  down  the  bluff-side  as 
her  straining  eyes  took  the  last  glimpse  she 
believed  they  were  to  have  of  Billy  O'Toole  for 
many  a  long,  long,  weary  month.  Alas !  in  the 
light  of  her  own  bereavement,  Kathleen  had  for- 
gotten all  about  Buster.  It  was  not  until  the  sound 
of  the  creaking  blocks  of  the  ferry-scow  was  borne 
upward  on  the  evening  wind,  telling  her  her  gal- 
lant Irish  lover  was  well  on  his  way  across  the 
Platte,  that  poor  Katty  heard  the  clamor  at  the  fort. 
Mrs.  Ross,  failing  to  find  Roddie  anywhere  about 
the  premises,  had  gone  wildly  weeping  to  the 
major,  while  Katty  herself  was  brought  to  bay  by 
her  usually  placid  friend  and  ally.  Cook.  Then 
indeed  was  she  frightened.  The  major's  orderly 
had  gone  on  the  wings  of  the  wind  down  the 
winding  road,  asking  eagerly  of  every  man  had 
he  seen  anything  of  Buster, — all  in  vain.  The 
adjutant  had  run,  following  a  clue  of  his  own, 
post  haste  to  the  troop  stables,  black,  grim,  and 
deserted  now  that  their  occupants  were  all  absent 

b  2* 


18  TROOPER  ROSS. 

in  the  field,  and  just  beyond  had  come  upon  the 
lone  sentry  pacing  his  post  at  the  quartermaster's 
corral.  "  Seen  anything  of  Captain  Boss's  little 
boy  down  here,  sentry  ?"  he  panted. 

"  Not  a  sign,  sir." 

"  Sure  he  hasn't  taken  out  his  pony  and  gone — 
anywhere  ?" 

"  Not  since  I  came  out,  sir.  I  was  posted  only 
at  dark,  though." 

The  adjutant  hurried  on  to  the  big  barred  gate 
and  shook  it  violently,  shouting  for  admission,  but 
the  word  had  gone  the  rounds  that  Billy  O'Toole 
was  to  start  at  nine  to  try  to  ride  through  the 
Indians  to  the  field  column,  and  every  man  except 
the  guard  had  dropped  what  he  was  doing  and 
swarmed  out  on  the  roadside  to  see  him  off.  Not 
until  the  bugle  was  sounding  the  mournful  notes 
of  tattoo  did  the  adjutant  succeed  in  getting  the 
key  and  gaining  admission  to  the  corral,  and,  just 
as  he  expected.  Buster's  pretty  Indian  pony  was 
gone.  Fancy  having  to  take  that  news  to  the 
now  terrified  mother ! 

The  secret  was  soon  out.  Only  a  few  minutes 
before  O'Toole  started,  and  while  they  were  still 
saddling  his  horse  for  him  at  the  corral.  Master 
Eoderick  had  slipped  in,  and  without  saying  a 
word  to  the  corporal  in  charge  or  his  one  assistant, 
had  quietly  saddled  his  pony  and  led  him  forth 
in  the  gathering  dusk.     Of  course  the  corporal 


TROOPER  ROSS.  19 

noticed  him  when  he  came  in  and  knew  it  was 
later  than  he  had  ever  been  there  before,  but 
everybody  was  excited  about  the  post,  he  said,  and 
he  supposed  Buster  was  too.  It  never  occurred 
to  him  to  look  to  see  what  he  was  doing.  It 
never  occurred  to  him  to  go  and  search  the  pony's 
stall.  They  were  gone,  boy  and  pony  both,  and 
that  was  all  there  was  to  it. 

And  no  one  knew  where.  A  rush  was  made 
for  the  ferry,  where  stout  old  Pete  Driscoll,  a 
veteran  of  six  enlistments,  was  in  charge,  and 
Pete  swore  solemnly  that  Buster  had  never  come 
near  there.  Long  since  had  Peter  received  orders 
never  to  take  Buster  across,  and  the  boy  knew 
that  with  the  old  soldier  orders  were  orders.  No, 
he  had  ridden  away,  and  it  was  so  dark  by  this 
time  that  no  one  as  yet  had  found  his  trail. 
Search  of  the  house  disclosed  that  his  Ballard 
was  gone  and  his  game-bag,  his  little  haversack 
and  canteen,  also  that  a  hole  had  been  made  in 
the  supply  of  commissary  crackers,  and  by  this 
time  Mrs.  Ross  was  nearly  frantic. 

"  For  goodness'  sake,  my  friend,"  said  the  major, 
soothingly,  "don't  take  on  so.  You  know  per- 
fectly well  he  can't  get  across  the  river.  The 
stream  is  bank  full  everywhere,  and  there  isn't 
a  ford,  up  or  down,  for  twenty  miles.  He'll  be 
coming  home  tired  and  hungry  inside  of  an  hour, 
and  then  all  you've  got  to  do  is  spank  him  soundly 


20  TKOOPEE  ROSS. 

—I'll  do  it  for  you  gladly — and  then  put  him 
supperless  to  bed.  Confound  the  little  rascal! 
What  wouldn't  his  father  give  him  by  way  of 
punishment !" 

"How  can  you  talk  of  punishment,  major!" 
protested  Mrs.  Koss,  with  streaming  eyes.  "I 
should  be  only  too  thankful  to  have  my  precious 
boy  back  again  in  my  arms.  Oh,  the  idea  of  his 
daring  to  run  away  in  such  a  way !  He'll  try  to 
make  Beppo  swim  the  river,  I  know  he  will.  He 
has  always  declared  he  was  going  to  make  him, 
and  it  would  be  just  like  him  to  try  it  this  night." 

And  then  before  the  major  could  protest  against 
the  utter  absurdity  of  such  an  idea,  the  corporal 
of  the  guard  came  running  up  to  the  steps. 

"Major,"  said  he,  breathlessly,  "Private  Con- 
ners,  sentry  on  Number  Three,  says  he  heard 
shots  and  saw  flashes  out  on  the  prairie  across  the 
river " 

"Oh,  I  knew  it!  I  knew  it!"  gasped  Mrs.  Ross. 
"They've  killed  my  boy."  And  with  that  the 
poor  distracted  soul  fainted  helplessly  away. 


CHAPTER  11. 


The  first  thing  the  major  did  after  seeing  Mrs. 
Ross  partially  restored  and  in  the  hands  of  sym- 
pathizing lady  friends  was  to  hasten  out  to  the  post 
of  the  sentry  on  Numher  Three  and  closely  ques- 
tion him  as  to  the  report  brought  in  by  the  cor- 
poral of  the  guard.  A  sturdy  young  soldier  wa« 
Private  Connors  and  one  who  knew  his  duty  well. 
"  There  can  be  no  doubt  about  it,  sir,"  he  said,  "  I 
assure  the  major  that  I  saw  three  flashes  about 
half  a  mile  above  the  ferry  landing  and  as  far  to 
the  north  of  the  river.  I  could  faintly  hear  the 
reports,  too,  and  they  sounded  like  rifles.  Two 
were  close  together, — like  that,  sir,"  said  he,  quit- 
ting the  small  of  the  stock  with  his  right  hand  as 
he  stood  at  "  port  arms"  and  slapping  twice  the 
polished  surface  of  its  butt.  "The  other  came 
perhaps  five  seconds  later  and  was  fainter,  both  in 

sound  and  in  flash." 

21 


22  TROOPER  ROSS. 

And  tlie  major's  heart  sank  to  his  boots.  Only 
that  very  afternoon,  as  has  been  told,  the  courier 
Downey  had  reached  the  post  wounded,  after  a 
desperate  ride.  The  Sioux  had  "jumped"  him,  as 
he  said,  on  the  Reno  road  about  twelve  miles  out, 
and  had  never  given  up  the  chase  until  within 
three  miles  of  the  fort.  Closer  than  that  by  day 
they  dare  not  venture,  for  there  were  traditions 
among  them  of  a  fearful  new  gun  the  white  sol- 
diers had  which  could  squirt  a  shower  of  bullets 
twice  as  far  as  their  best  rifles  could  carry, — a  gun 
they  didn't  have  to  aim,  only  turn  it  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  enemy  and  it  would  spatter  death 
all  over  the  land  and  sweep  them  down  like  leaves 
torn  from  the  cottonwoods  in  an  autumn  gale  by 
the  angry  breath  of  the  Great  Spirit.  But  though 
they  came  no  nearer  then,  the  major  knew  they 
were  hovering  somewhere  along  that  perilous 
path,  probably  as  near  as  Trooper  Springs,  where 
the  men  so  often  filled  their  canteens  when  the 
cavalry  were  on  scout.  Alas !  He  had  no  cavalry 
now  to  send  out  after  these  fleet  marauders — 
nothing  but  an  infantry  guard,  and  no  way  of 
mounting  them  beyond  a  dozen  mules,  ponies,  and 
worn-out  troop  horses  in  the  quartermaster's  corral. 
The  Indians  knew  this  as  well  as  he,  and  felt  entirely 
safe  in  camping  for  the  night  somewhere  among 
the  sheltered  nooks  in  the  valley  of  Trooper  Fork, 
a  clear,  cold,  sparkling  stream  that  came  winding 


TKOOPER   ROSS.  23 

down  towards  the  river  from  the  heights  to  the 
north-west.  *'  I'll  mount  under  the  low  bluff  across 
the  Platte,  sir,"  O'Toole  had  said  before  he  rode 
away,  "  follow  up-stream  about  half  a  mile,  so  as 
to  be  well  to  the  west  of  the  road,  and  then  strike 
out  across  the  prairie  for  Eagle  Butte."  And  the 
major  had  no  better  plan  to  suggest.  Down-stream 
and  to  the  east  he  could  have  found  a  country  more 
open,  perhaps,  but  it  was  a  longer  way.  It  was 
cut  up  by  numerous  deej)  valleys,  all  of  which  led 
eastward,  the  direction  of  the  reservations,  and 
therefore  likely  to  be  the  lurking-places  of  braves 
by  the  dozen,  watching  for  a  chance  to  swoop  upon 
the  road. 

Up  the  river,  therefore,  O'Toole  had  un- 
doubtedly gone,  then  out  across  the  open  prairie, 
and  he  had  been  gone  quite  long  enough  to  reach 
the  point  described  by  the  sentry  as  that  from 
which  came  the  sound  of  the  shots.  The  moon 
was  young  and  feeble,  already  low  in  the  west, 
and  casting  but  a  faint,  pallid  light  over  the 
broad  waste  of  rolling  prairie  across  the  stream ; 
so  little  further  could  be  seen.  With  all  his  heart 
the  major  had  hoped  to  find  in  the  sentry  some 
nervous,  sensational  fellow, — a  grown-up  edition 
of  Buster  himself,  perhaps.  He  found  instead  a 
cool,  self-possessed,  soldierly  man  whose  words 
and  bearing  commanded  his  respect,  and  there  was 
no  hesitation  whatever  in  the  major's  action  now. 


24  TROOPEK  ROSS. 

"  Mount  ten  men  on  anything  you  can  find  in 
the  corral,"  said  he  to  the  quartermaster,  who  was 
standing  silently  by  his  side ;  "  and,  Warner,  you 
will  go  in  command." 

A  young  lieutenant  touched  his  cap  and  turned 
quickly  away.  "  Lend  me  your  horse,  Billy," 
he  said  to  the  quartermaster,  as  he  hurried  to  his 
quarters  to  get  his  arms.  And  then  sharp  and 
clear  the  bugle-notes  of  the  assembly  rang  out 
upon  the  evening  air.  The  men,  gathered  but  a 
few  minutes  before  for  tattoo  roll-call,  as  was  the 
custom  at  that  time,  were  already  at  their  barracks 
and  quick  to  spring  to  ranks.  Only  Sergeant 
Curran  was  missing.  He  had  gone  with  the  adju- 
tant full  tilt  for  the  ferry  at  the  first  assurance  of 
Buster's  disappearance. 

By  this  time  the  heavy  old  scow  was  moored  to 
the  south  bank  again, — Driscoll,  the  ferryman, 
and  the  brace  of  infantry  soldiers  who  had  gone 
with  him  as  guard,  hardly  caring  to  remain  longer 
than  was  necessary  so  far  from  under  the  protec- 
tion of  the  fort.  What  was  to  prevent  a  squad 
of  a  dozen  Indians  dashing  down  upon  them  in 
the  gloaming  and  murdering  every  man  before 
help  might  come  ?  What  but  the  fact  that  most 
Indians  are  superstitious  and  as  afraid  of  the  dark 
as  many  a  school-boy.  True,  the  soldiers  had 
their  Springfields  and  the  old  ferryman  his  re- 
peating rifle,  and  all  three  had  had  more  than 


TROOPER  ROSS.  25 

one  brush  with  savage  foes.  All  the  same,  it  was 
nervous  work,  this  pulling  slowly  over  in  the 
silence,  broken  only  by  the  lapping  of  the  stream 
upon  the  sloping  bows  of  the  clumsy  craft,  the 
creak  of  pulley,  or  some  murmured  word  of  ad- 
monition. In  that  dim,  ghostly,  uncertain  light 
men  see  shapes  that  become  goblins  damned  or 
Indians  vengeful  to  the  excited  brain,  and  the 
fact  that,  only  two  nights  before,  somewhere  out 
there  on  the  prairie  an  Indian  had  lurked  and 
shouted  sonorous  boastings  and  challenge  across 
the  stream,  as  though  tempting  the  far-away  sentry 
to  fire,  served  to  make  the  trio  more  cautious  than 
usual.  They  were  still  there  at  the  old  ferry- 
house  when  the  adjutant,  close  followed  by  Ser- 
geant Curran,  bore  swiftly  down  upon  them,  and 
they  were  evidently  startled  by  the  sudden,  excited 
coming.  The  first  question  was,  of  course,  of 
Buster:  had  anything  been  seen  of  him?  to 
which,  of  course,  the  answer  was  no.  Then,  had 
they  heard  or  seen  anything  from  up-stream,  the 
direction  taken  by  O'Toole  ?  Not  a  sight,  not  a 
sound.  They  were  amazed  when  told  of  the 
firing. 

"  But  I  believe  it,  sir,"  said  one  of  the  guards. 
"Indeed,  I  might  have  expected  it.  Corporal 
O'Toole's  horse  was  that  excited,  sir,  that  he  al- 
most backed  off  the  boat.  He  was  staring  and 
snorting  all  the  way  over,  and  pricking  up  his 


26  TKOOPEK  ROSS. 

ears  and  pulling  back.  The  corporal  said  he  had 
never  seen  him  act  so  but  once  before,  and  that 
was  the  morning  they  came  in  sight  of  Crazy- 
Horse's  village  last  March." 

But  they  were  overcome  with  consternation 
when  told  that  little  Roderick  was  missing, — had 
taken  his  pony  and  provisions  and  ridden  away 
no  one  knew  where.  Excitedly,  and  in  low,  eager 
tones,  they  continued  to  chat  and  conjecture,  while 
the  adjutant  turned  and  ran  swiftly  back  up  the 
slope  to  convey  this  last  intelligence  to  his  com- 
mander. 

"  Stand  by  your  scow !"  he  shouted  back. 
"  She'll  be  wanted  in  a  few  minutes  to  carry  the 
patrol  across."  And,  surely  enough,  in  just  about 
ten  minutes  down  through  the  gloaming  they 
came,  the  boy  lieutenant,  Warner,  and  perhaps  a 
dozen  soldiers  on  all  manner  of  mounts,  but  all 
the  riders  silent,  eager,  resolute.  Quickly  the 
leader  dismounted  and  led  down  the  steep  ramp  to 
where  the  scow  swung  uneasily  at  her  moorings. 
The  others,  following  the  lieutenant,  led  their 
steeds  aboard,  not  without  some  sharp  urging  in 
some  cases,  one  little  mule  in  particular  that 
braced  all  four  feet  and  refused  to  budge  until  a 
bayonet  prick,  followed  by  a  resounding  whack 
from  the  butt  of  a  rifle,  sent  the  obstinate  brute 
sputtering  down  the  muddy  slope  and  plunging 
in  among  the  quadrupeds  on  deck.     Then  willing 


TROOPER  ROSS,  27 

hands  grasped  the  guy-ropes,  and  the  heavily-laden 
craft  a  second  time  breasted  the  stream,  and  full  a 
quarter  of  all  Fort  Frayne's  available  garrison 
was  launched  upon  the  waves  and  sent  in  search 
of  Buster, — Buster  who  could  only  by  any  pos- 
sible chance  have  crossed  the  stream  by  swimming 
his  pony  over  in  the  da.k,  which  mighty  few  boys 
of  nine  would  dare  to  do,  or  else  by  stumbling 
across  the  rocky  ford  a  mile  away  up-stream. 

Yet  the  sounds  of  fight  had  come  from  the 
northern  side,  and  some  distance  away,  and  while 
it  might  mean  an  attack  on  O'Toole,  it  might  still 
mean,  as  poor  Mrs.  Ross  declared,  that  the  sav- 
ages had  attacked  and  killed  her  precious  baby 
boy. 

Meanwhile,  another  squad,  just  a  sergeant  and 
three  men,  had  started  out  afoot  to  follow  the 
right  bank  of  the  stream  westward,  with  orders  to 
search  and  signal  everywhere.  Another,  still,  went 
down-stream;  not  that  any  one  believed  Buster 
had  gone  that  way,  but  because  he  might  have 
done  so,  and  no  stone  was  to  be  left  unturned  in 
the  effort  to  trace  him.  Meantime,  too,  sur- 
rounded by  her  closest  friends  in  the  little  garri- 
son, Mrs.  Boss  was  striving  hard  to  be  calm  and 
hopeful  and  courageous,  feeling  ashamed  already 
of  her  weakness  in  fainting  away  just  when  her 
wits  were  most  needed.  Yet  what  mother  could 
be  calm  under  such  fearful  strain  ?    Other  women 


28  TKOOPEK   BOSS. 

at  first  had  suggested  that  it  was  all  some  trick  of 
Buster's, — "  some  utterly  abominable,  inexcusable 
freak,"  they  said  to  themselves  or  to  one  another, 
as  they  thought  of  a  dozen  places  where  he  and 
Beppo  might  be  hiding,  but  these  places  were 
searched,  and  not  a  sign  of  the  boy  was  found, 
not  a  print  of  Beppo's  hoofs.  But  neither  these 
theories  nor  their  failure  detracted  one  whit  from 
the  poor  mother's  distress.  From  the  very  first 
she  had  never  doubted  that  the  boy  was  really 
gone,  and  before  the  wailing  notes  of  taps  had 
died  away  at  ten  came  tidings  that  banished  doubt 
and  hope  at  one  and  the  same  time.  In  the  soft 
sand  of  the  river  bottom,  not  five  hundred  yards 
above  the  post,  they  had  found  fresh  imprint  of 
Beppo's  hoofs.  Every  soldier  knew  them,  and  it 
was  evident  that  in  two  places  the  boy  had  striven 
to  force  him  to  enter  the  stream.  Then,  as  both 
times  Beppo  had  refused  and  backed  out,  they 
had  gone  on  westward  towards  the  ford, — a  ford 
bad  enough  at  noonday  and  at  low  water,  but  now 
dangerous  for  horse  and  almost  certain  death  to  a 
pony  and  such  a  pygmy  rider.  One  of  the  men 
had  come  back  with  the  tidings  of  the  finding  of 
the  hoof-prints ;  the  others  had  followed  on  up- 
stream. 

Incredible  as  it  might  seem,  then,  this  nine- 
year-old  infant  had  made  up  his  mind  to  escape 
from  Frayne  that  very  night  and  make  his  way 


TROOPER   ROSS.  29 

far  to  the  north  through  the  Indian-haunted  wilds 
with  his  friend  O'Toole,  and  join  his  father  in  the 
field  beyond  the  beautiful  snow-capped  mountains 
of  the  Big  Horn. 

And  now  while  all  was  suspense  and  eagerness 
at  the  fort  and  dread  anxiety  at  Captain  Ross's 
home,  the  major  returned  to  his  post  on  the  bluff 
close  to  the  sentry,  and,  with  his  adjutant  and  a 
veteran  captain  of  infantry  in  close  attendance, 
stood  almost  breathlessly  waiting  for  the  next  sign 
or  sound  from  the  dark  prairie  across  the  stream. 
Even  at  the  point  where  the  ferry-boat  was  moored 
to  the  northern  bank  all  was  dark  as  the  bottom 
of  a  well,  and  not  a  sound  broke  the  stillness  of 
the  night.  There  crouched  the  old  ferry-man 
and  his  two  guards,  listening  intently  for  the 
return  of  the  first  messenger  from  the  searching- 
party,  and  warily  scanning  the  low  bank  that 
loomed  up  against  the  stars  of  the  northern  sky, 
watching  for  signs  of  war-bonnet  or  unadorned 
Indian  head.  Out  at  the  northward  end  of  the 
bluff  half  a  dozen  soldiers,  rifle  in  hand,  had 
grouped  in  silence,  watching,  waiting  like  their 
superiors.  Others  still  clung  at  the  edge  of  the 
steep  bank  just  below  the  point  where  the  major 
watched,  the  murmur  of  some  whisper  or  low- 
toned  question  and  reply  floating  once  in  a  while 
to  the  ears  of  those  higher  up  the  bank.  Over 
at  the  officers'  quarters  vague,  womanly  shapes 
3* 


30  TROOPER   ROSS. 

seemed  flitting  to  and  fro  along  the  piazzas,  pass- 
ing rapidly  from  liouse  to  house,  and  occasionally 
the  sob  of  some  nervous,  frightened  child  added 
to  the  gloom  of  the  situation.  Five,  ten,  fifteen, 
minutes  they  waited,  and  not  a  sign  came  from 
the  front, — no  further  word  from  up-stream. 

At  last  a  young  soldier  came.  He  was  running 
slowly,  heavily,  wearily.  The  major  turned  im- 
patiently towards  him.  "  Well,  what  news  ?"  he 
queried. 

"  He's  gone,  sir ;  leastwise  he's  tried  the  ford, 
and  he  never  came  out  again  on  this  side.  The 
pony  made  a  fight  against  going  in  among  the 
rocks,  but  there's  no  signs  above  or  below. 
Whether  he  got  across  or  not  I  cannot  say.  The 
only  thing  certain  is  that  he  got  in,  sir." 

"Are  you  sure  there  are  no  back  tracks?" 
asked  the  major,  almost  imploringly. 

"Not  for  two  hundred  yards  above  or  below, 
major.  Indeed,  it's  too  dark  to  see  and  too  deep 
above  and  below  for  them  to  get  back  if  swept  off 
the  ledge  of  rocks." 

The  major  wrung  his  hands  In  silence  a  mo- 
ment. It  was  a  hard  time  for  him,  for  had  he 
not  promised  Ross  he  would  take  the  best  care  of 
that  precious  youngster  ere  the  father  went  away  ? 
and  now  here  he  had  the  whole  garrison  on  tenter- 
hooks about  the  boy,  and  all  because  the  wilful, 
fearless  little  scamp  had  not  been  watched  and 


TROOPER  ROSS.  31 

prevented  from  taking  out  his  pony.  If  he  and 
Beppo  were  drowned  in  the  Platte  as  the  result  of 
this  night's  work,  he'd  never  dare  look  in  Ross's 
face  again ;  and  if  the  boy  had  really  crossed,  had 
actually  gotten  over  to  the  northward  side  and 
then  been  nabbed  by  Indians, — God  have  mercy 
on  him  and  on  the  negligent  men  who  had  let 
him  slip  away ! 

Not  daring  to  face  the  mother  now,  Crandall 
sent  his  adjutant,  as  he  had  promised,  to  tell  as 
gently,  as  hopefully  as  he  could  the  latest  news, 
and  no  man  envied  Mr.  White  his  mission. 

And  now  it  was  high  time  something  had  been 
heard  from  the  searching-party  on  the  north 
shore.  Well  they  knew  that  the  moment  Warner 
discovered  evidence,  good  or  bad,  he  would  hasten 
to  communicate  with  the  fort.  In  the  little  party 
that  rode  away  under  his  command  was  the  orderly 
bugler,  a  boy  of  seventeen,  a  good  deal  of  a  scamp, 
too,  in  his  way,  and,  as  need  be  no  matter  of  sur- 
prise, a  stanch  friend  in  consequence  of  Buster's. 
Just  as  they  were  starting,  and  the  major  was 
giving  his  hurried  instructions,  a  happy  thought 
occurred  to  him. 

"  If  by  any  chance  you  should  find  Buster  over 
there  and  all's  right,  tell  Lanigan  to  gallop  back 
and  sound  a  bar  or  two  of  the  reveille  as  soon  as 
he  thinks  he  can  make  it  heard  at  the  post. 
That's  the  brightest,  liveliest  call  of  the  lot.     If 


32  TKOOPEK  EOSS. 

it's  O'Toole  you  find,  and  he  needs  help,  sound 
sick-call.  If  you  can  find  nothing  of  either  of 
them,  sound  '  taps,'  and  we'll  know  what  to  pre- 
pare Mrs.  Koss  for.  You  understand?"  And 
Warner  had  nodded  appreciatively  and  spurred 
away. 

They  had  been  gone  full  thirty  minutes,  long 
enough  to  have  reached  the  point  whence  came 
the  shots  and  flashes  twice  over  again,  and  not  a 
sound  had  come  from  the  front.  All  eyes  now 
were  peering  out  to  the  north-west,  as  though 
striving  to  pierce  that  impenetrable  darkness. 
Hearts  were  beating  heavily,  thumping  like  little 
trip-hammers  in  the  brawny  chests  of  these  veteran 
soldiers.  Only  in  whispers  dared  they  utter  even 
an  occasional  word  for  fear  of  missing  that  longed- 
for  bugle-call.  Down  in  the  depths  at  the  foot 
of  the  bluff  the  river  went  murmuring  over  its 
changeful  bed,  lashing  the  rocks  at  the  sharp 
bend  down-stream,  and  tossing  little  waves  upon 
the  shallows  under  the  cottonwoods  on  the 
"bench"  below  the  fort.  Over  on  the  major's 
piazza  some  one  was  walking  nervously  up  and 
down,  and  he  sent  a  messenger  begging  whoever 
it  was  to  be  quiet,  so  severe  was  the  nervous 
tension  among  the  listeners  at  the  bank. 

And  so  thirty  minutes  passed  away,  and  others 
of  the  searchers  on  the  southern  bank  returned, 
reporting  no  signs.     Some  one  called  attention  to 


TKOOPER  KOSS.  33 

a  faint  light  flickering  like  a  will-o'-the-wisp  away 
up-stream,  and  some  one  else  said  that  Sergeant 
Curran  had  a  lantern  and  was  studying  the  shore 
above  the  ford  in  vain  search  for  more  of  Beppo's 
tracks.  The  sergeant  would  not  give  up  hope; 
he  still  believed  the  boy  would  turn  up  somewhere 
along  that  bank,  but  the  quartermaster  sadly  shook 
his  head. 

"  What  I  dread,"  muttered  he,  "  is  that  the  poor 
little  chap  has  dared  the  ford  at  the  rocks, — he 
and  Beppo  crossed  it  often  last  fall  when  the  water 
was  low, — and  the  pony  has  stumbled  and  thrown 
him,  and  they've  been  swept  into  that  black  pool 
below  the  rapids.  The  moon  was  so  low  and  faint 
even  before  tattoo  that  they  couldn't  have*  picked 
their  way  among  those  slij^pery  rocks," 

"  But  Beppo  could  swim  like  a  spaniel,"  pro- 
tested the  major.  "  Boss  took  me  down  once  to 
that  very  pool  to  see  the  little  beggar  paddle 
through  it.  O'Toole  used  to  drag  him  in  along- 
side his  big  bay  until  he  seemed  to  like  it.  He 
swam  high,  too,  with  his  withers  'way  out  of  water, 
and  if  Buster  could  only  hang  on My  heav- 
ens !     Is  that  bugle  never  going  to  sound  ?" 

And  just  then  the  sentry  slowly  pacing  by 
them,  his  eyes  fixed  on  that  dim,  desolate  waste 
across  the  waters,  stopped  suddenly.  There  were 
low  excited  words  among  the  watchers  farther  up 
the  bank.     "  What  is  it  ?     What  do  you  hear  ?" 


34  TROOPER  ROSS. 

were  the  breathless  questions  of  the  officers,  and 
for  answer  the  sentry  pointed,  north-westward. 
Far  out  under  the  stars  a  faint,  ruddy  light  had 
suddenly  popped  into  view,  easily  distinguishable 
from  the  pallid,  phosphorescent,  bluish  twinkle 
of  the  northern  heavens, — a  tiny  red-yellow  but- 
ton on  the  black  robe  of  night  that  hovered  and 
waxed  and  waned  and  waxed  again  and  grew 
broader  and  bigger,  and  then  began  to  illumine 
the  rugged  outline  of  the  heights,  and  men's  hearts 
began  to  throb  with  hope  and  relief  as  presently 
a  waving  tongue  of  flame  could  be  seen  creeping 
higher,  and  the  orderly  came  running  out  with 
the  major's  signal-glasses,  and  the  cry  went  up, 
"  O'Toole's  all  right !  It's  a  signal  from  Eagle 
Butte!" 

And  then  came  even  greater  dread  than  before. 
If  O'Toole  had  reached  the  butte  in  safety  across 
that  intervening  league  of  open  prairie,  what 
could  have  become  of  Buster?  If  the  corporal 
had  found  him  across  the  river  he  would  long 
since  have  brought  him  back,  unless  their  return 
had  been  cut  off  by  prowling  Indians.  Under 
no  circumstances  would  the  faithful  Irishman 
have  taken  the  little  fellow  with  him  on  his  way. 
If  that  little  beacon  had  been  fired  that  night  by 
Billy  O'Toole, — a  trick  they  had  learned  from  the 
Indians  themselves,  and  often  used  in  the  old  days 
of  hunting-parties  returning  to  the  post  as  warning 


TKOOPER   ROSS.  35 

of  their  coming, — it  meant  that  he  was  there,  safe 
and  sound  and  unmolested,  for  were  Indians  after 
him  there  would  have  been  no  time  to  stop 
and  gather  pine  and  fir  branches  and  heap  them 
in  that  little  niche  which,  opening  only  to  the 
southward,  concealed  its  flame  from  other  points 
and  signalled  only  towards  the  Platte.  The  more 
they  thought  and  reasoned,  the  more  the  oflicers 
knew  it  couldn't  be  fired  by  the  courier  who  had 
left  them  so  short  a  time  before.  What  earthly 
object  would  he  have  had  in  signalling  if  he  were 
unpursued  ?  If  Indians  were  south  of  the  Butte, 
it  would  betray  him  instantly.  And  then  reaction 
set  in ;  the  sudden  flutter  of  hope  and  joy  gave 
place  to  newer,  deeper  anxiety,  and  even  as  they 
looked  speechlessly  at  one  another,  wondering  what 
this  might  portend,  away  over  across  that  north- 
ward stretch  of  barren,  rolling,  night-shrouded 
prairie  there  came  a  cry,  querulous,  complaining, 
mournful,  weird,  and  one  after  another  a  pack  of 
vagrant  coyotes  lifted  up  their  voices  to  the  winds 
of  night  and  began  their  unearthly  serenade,  and 
then  that,  and  the  tiny  blaze  among  the  crags  at 
Eagle  Butte  and  the  flutter  of  hope  that  had 
sprung  for  the  moment  in  every  heart,  all  seemed 
to  die  away  together,  and  men  could  only  look 
blankly  in  one  another's  worn  faces  and  whisper, 
"  What  can  it  mean  ?" 

"I  never  want  to  live  over  again  two  such 


36  TEOOPER  EOSS. 

minutes  as  followed  tliat  fire,"  said  the  major,  a 
day  or  two  later,  "and  I  never  knew  anything 
like  the  darkness  and  depression  that  settled  over 
the  old  fort." 

But  that  was  just  the  darkest  hour  that  precedes 
the  radiant  dawn.  Two  woful,  dreadful  minutes 
of  suspense  and  misery  were  theirs,  and  then  once 
again,  and  this  time  with  no  reaction,  every  heart 
along  that  northern  slope  bounded  anew  and  beat 
with  exultant  joy,  for,  faint  and  tremulous  at  first, 
but  rising  fuller,  surer,  gladder  with  every  second, 
there  came  floating  through  the  night  the  ringing, 
rollicking  notes  of  the  soldier's  reveille, — "  Buster's 
found,  thank  God !"  went  up  the  cry,  as  strong 
men  clasped  hands,  and  two  fleet-footed  fellows 
dashed  away  to  bear  the  news  to  Mrs.  E-oss. 
"Buster's  found,  thank  God!"  they  shouted  to 
the  weeping  women  at  the  quarters  across  the 
parade.  Then — hark!  Another  peal,  faint,  yet 
clear,  imperative,  unmistakable, — Bugler  Lanigan 
was  sounding  sick-call. 

Buster  was  safe,  and  O'Toole  needed  help. 
Who,  then,  could  have  fired  the  beacon  at  Eagle 
Butte? 


CHAPTEE    III. 


And  now,  as  this  is  Buster's  story,  it  might  be 
only  fair  to  let  him  tell  some  part  of  it  himself. 
But  the  trouble  with  Buster,  as  has  been  said,  was 
that  he  was  a  boy  gifted  with  not  a  little  imagina- 
tion for  a  nine- year-old,  and  that  he  had  rather 
impaired  his  credibility  as  a  witness  by  exagger- 
ative, not  to  say  unreliable,  statements  in  the  past. 
To  such  an  extent  was  our  sturdy  little  friend 
believed  to  color  his  narratives  that  his  very  pet 
name  had  become  a  sort  of  synonyme  at  Frayne 
for  garrison  tales  of  doubtful  veracity.  "  That's 
what  I  call  a  buster,"  was  the  quartermaster's 
remark  when  he  heard  a  typical  frontiersman 
telling  how  many  Indians  he  had  killed  since  the 
Fort  Phil  Kearny  massacre.  "That's  a  buster" 
became  a  post  expression  as  significant  at  Frayne 
as  was  "  that's  a  whopper"  among  school-boys. 

And  yet  people  laughed  not  unkindly  when 
they  said  it,  for  Buster's  tales  of  personal  prowess 

4  37 


38  TEOOPEE  ROSS. 

had  this  to  back  them, — that  he  believed  he  could 
do  everything  he  said  he  did  do,  and  as  his  cour- 
age and  nerve  had  often  been  tried,  the  officers,  at 
least,  felt  sure  the  little  man  would  "  take  chances" 
to  make  good  his  word.  Among  the  j)ost  children 
there  were  the  same  lively  jealousies  and  heart- 
burnings to  be  found  among  those  very  human 
little  people  in  similar  sets  at  home,  but,  as  luck 
would  have  it,  Buster  was  the  only  boy  of  the 
age  of  nine  in  all  the  fort.  There  were  older 
boys,  bigger  boys,  and  mites  of  boys,  but  none 
just  suited  to  be  his  playmate ;  so  when  his  father 
was  in  the  field  Buster  was  rather  alone  in  the 
world,  after  all,  were  it  not  for  Billy  O'Toole  and 
Lanigan  and  Beppo,  for  Buster  affected  to  despise 
girls.  He  couldn't  bear  it  that  twelve-year-old 
Mary  Crandall  should  sometimes  try  to  order  him 
about.  He  became  obstreperous  if  his  ex-nurse 
ventured  to  exert  authority.  That  was  all  very 
well  until  he  was  five  years  old,  said  he,  but  a  boy 
who  could  ride  and  swim  and  shoot  wasn't  to  be 
bossed  by  any  girl,  and  he  wouldn't  stand  it. 

And  now  that  Lanigan's  bugling  assured  the 
garrison  that  Buster  was  safe,  even  before  he  knew 
what  might  have  befallen  O'Toole,  or  before  any 
one  could  explain  the  meaning  of  the  mysterious 
signals  from  Eagle  Butte,  the  grim  quartermaster 
remarked,  "Only  fancy  the  story  Buster  will 
have  to  tell  now !" 


TROOPER   ROSS.  39 

And  the  little  man  did  not  entirely  disappoint 
his  critics  and  detractors.  Not  until  eleven  o'clock 
that  night  was  he  safely  restored  to  his  mother's 
arms,  and  to  her  and  to  the  crowd  of  inquisitive 
neighbors  did  he  deign  again  and  again  to  tell 
his  experiences.  The  men  meantime  were  getting 
what  they  could  out  of  Billy  O'Toole,  who  was 
back  once  more,  this  time  with  a  broken  leg.  As 
for  their  respective  "  mounts,"  little  Beppo,  look- 
ing as  though  he  had  been  rolling  in  the  slough, 
was  now  setting  his  ears  back  and  biting  at  his 
groom  in  the  comfort  and  seclusion  of  the  stall, 
while  with  wisps  of  hay  he  was  being  vigorously 
rubbed  down,  and  as  for  poor  Buford,  he  would 
never  race  again.  We'll  hear  O'Toole's  story 
first. 

Half  a  mile  north-west  from  the  ferry,  soon  after 
the  gallant  fellow  had  ridden  out  from  the  shelter 
of  the  low  bluff  and  was  bounding  away  over  the 
turf,  two  rifles  flashed  their  greetings  from  over  a 
little  ridge  less  than  thirty  yards  away.  Buford 
plunged,  swerved,  staggered,  and  plainly  showed 
that  he  had  received  his  death  wound.  The  only 
hope  was,  could  he  hold  out  long  enough  to  bear 
his  rider  back  to  the  bank,  and  gallantly,  faith- 
fully, had  he  obeyed  the  almost  frantic  summons. 
Whirling  about,  O'Toole  headed  him  for  the 
stream,  and  was  sore  amazed  when  out  from  the 
shadowy  slope  ahead  there  came  a  sudden  flash 


40  TROOPEE  EOSS. 

and  a  sliarp  report.  "My  God,"  thought  he, 
"they've  headed  me !"  but  Buford  tore  frantically 
on,  and  fell,  all  in  a  heap,  close  to  the  water's 
edge,  with  Corporal  Billy  underneath.  By  the 
time  he,  poor  fellow,  had  worked  himself  out  from 
under  the  cruel  weight,  he  was  conscious  of  a 
voice,  in  clear,  childish  treble,  calling  his  name, 
and  there,  by  all  that  was  wonderful ! — there,  Bal- 
lard in  hand,  and  Beppo  towing  sulkily  behind, 
there  came  little  Buster,  trotting  to  him  down  the 
bank.  And  both  Buster  and  Beppo  were  dripping 
wet. 

And  then  poor  O'Toole  was  in  worse  plight 
than  before.  It  was  bad  enough  to  be  lying  there 
helpless  and  in  mortal  pain  with  his  pet  horse 
just  stiffening  in  death,  thwarted,  defeated,  and 
driven  back  before  he  had  got  a  mile  on  his  way 
with  those  j^recious  letters  and  despatches.  It  was 
bad  enough  to  lie  there  not  knowing  what  instant 
the  hated,  triumphant  savages  would  reajDpear, 
creeping  slowly  into  view  over  that  nearest  bank 
and  making  a  target  of  him  as  he  lay  there  power- 
less, finishing  him  from  behind  their  natural  breast- 
works before  venturing  down  to  claim  his  scalp. 
It  was  bad  enough  to  lie  there  crippled  and  with 
no  better  weapon  than  his  revolver,  but  what  had 
he  ever  done  that  here  there  should  suddenly 
appear,  claiming  his  protection,  the  only  child  of 
the  captain  he  so  loyally  loved,  the  little  son  Billy 


TEOOPEK  ROSS.  41 

had  so  proudly  promised  the  father  to  guard  as 
he  woukl  his  own  life  ?  "  Oh,  murther,  murther, 
Koddie  boy,  what  villain  let  you  across  the 
river?"  he  moaned  aloud,  and  then  was  utterly 
amazed, — startled  out  of  all  remembrance  of  his 
own  pain  and  terror,  by  the  utterly  unexpected 
answer. 

"  Huh  !  Guess  you've  forgotten  how  Bep  could 
swim.  That's  how  we  got  across, — -just  in  time, 
too,  or  you'd  never  ha'  got  away  from  those  In- 
dians." 

"  Mother  of  Heaven,  boy  !  what  are  you  saying  ? 
You  swam  the  Platte, — you  f 

"  I  didn't, — I  could  though  easy  enough, — Bep 
did.  All  I  had  to  do  was  to  stick  on ;  but  you 
ought  to  have  seen  that  Indian  light  out  when  I 
fired.  I  shot  him,  I'm  sure  I  did !"  cried  the  boy, 
mad  with  excitement  and  big  with  importance. 
"  They  was  two  of  them  came  a-chasing  after  you 
and  I  took  good  aim,  and  you  ought  to  have  seen 
them  make  tracks !" 

"  Koddie,  it's  dreaming  you  are,  or  It's  crazy  I 
am !  Sure  you  could  never  make  Bep  swim  the 
Platte  by  day ;  how  could  you  do  it  in  the  dark  ? 
As  for  shootin',  I  heard  ye,  and  thought  'twas  me 
you  was  firing  at  and  you  was  another  Indian. 
Koddie,  ye  don't  mane  it.     Did  ye  hit  him  ?" 

"  Hit  him  ?  Of  course  I  did !"  vowed  Buster, 
stoutly,  though  dripping  and  beginning  to  shiver 

4* 


42  TROOPEK  ROSS. 

witli  cold  and  excitement.  "  He  went  down  on 
his  pony's  neck  like  that,"  said  he,  bowing  low. 

"Then  crawl  behind  poor  Buford  here,  you 
young  limb,  and  lay  low,  or  they'll  pick  you  off 
instead  of  me.  Don't  be  frightened,  boy,"  he 
added,  seeing  how  little  Rod's  teeth  were  chatter- 
ing and  the  boy  was  trembling  as  though  in  a  fit 
of  ague.  "  The  fellers'll  come  galloping  out  from 
the  fort  in  a  few  minutes  if  we  can  only  stand  off 
the  blackguards  meantime.  Bedad,  I  believe  you 
did  hit  him  or  they'd  have  been  here  now." 

And  this  was  Buster's  firm  conviction,  too,  and 
one  that  grew  with  every  minute  as  time  went 
on  and  never  an  Indian  feather  appeared.  On 
the  contrary,  the  new  moon  sank  behind  the  low 
horizon ;  O'Toole  managed  to  unstrap  his  big 
canteen  from  the  saddle  and  drink  a  long,  refresh- 
ing draught  and  to  unsling  the  cincha  and  wrap 
the  saddle  blanket  about  his  little  friend  and 
cuddle  him  close  up  against  poor  Buford's  still 
warm  body,  and  all  the  time  he  kept  wary  eye 
upon  the  low  bluff  line,  watching  for  foemen,  lis- 
tening for  friends,  and  by  the  time  he  grew  a  little 
warmer  Buster  believed  he  had  killed  that  In- 
dian stone  dead  and  the  others  had  dragged  the 
body  off.  And  then,  far  out  over  the  prairie,  they 
heard  the  sound  of  hoofs  and  voices,  and  presently 
a  bugle  call,  and  then  they  let  drive  a  shot  or  two 
from  the  revolver,  and  both  Irish  barytone  and 


TEOOPER  KOSS.  43 

boyish  treble  went  up  in  a  shout,  and  by  the  time 
the  rescuers  came  galloping  in,  Roderick  Buster 
Ross  firmly  believed  and  was  ready  to  declare  that 
he  had  killed  both  Indians  and  put  to  rout  a 
dozen. 

Whether  that  little  pill  of  a  bullet  ever  hit 
either  one  of  those  pursuing  Sioux  is  very  doubt- 
ful, but  the  fact  that  the  lone  horseman  had  turned 
and  darted  back,  and  that  he  had  at  least  one  friend 
in  that  direction,  was  quite  enough  for  the  warriors 
in  the  case.  Cavalry  on  the  march  always  had  a 
little  advance  guard,  preceded  something  like  one 
hundred  yards  by  a  single  horseman.  Very  possi- 
bly this  horseman  had  darted  back  to  his  supports, 
it  was  one  of  these  latter  who  had  fired,  and  the 
Indians  lost  no  time  in  circling  about  and  getting 
a  mile  away.  Very  probably  Buster's  little  pill 
of  a  bullet  would  hardly  have  stung  an  Indian  at 
the  distance,  but  the  flash  and  report  were  enough 
for  them,  when  awed  by  darkness,  too,  and  they 
fled  from  dangers  they  knew  not  of. 

But  that  one  shot,  fired  perhaps  blindly,  ex- 
citedly, desperately,  made  a  hero  of  Buster  Ross. 
All  the  way  back  to  the  scow,  in  tones  of  wonder- 
ment and  admiration  commingled,  Warner's  party 
plied  the  little  chap  with  questions,  and  his  boy- 
ish voice  rose  shrill  on  the  night  air  as  again  and 
again  he  repeated  his  story.  "  I  was  bound  to 
catch  O'Toole,"  he  said,  "  an'  the  moment  Bep 


44  TKOOPEE  BOSS. 

struck  bottom  on  the  other  side  we  galloped  out 
towards  the  road,  an'  before  we  were  half-way 
across  the  prairie  I  heard  the  shots  an'  saw  him 
a-coming  an'  the  Indians  after  him,  an'  I  just 
took  good  aim  as  ever  I  took  in  my  life  at  the 
headmost  buck,  an'  waited  till  they  were  almost 
on  top  of  me  before  I  fired,  an'  he  went  right 
down  on  his  pony's  neck " 

"  Well,  of  all  the  army  boys  I  ever  heard  of  you 
take  the  cake,"  muttered  Mr.  Warner.  "  Either 
you're  the  littlest  big  hero  or  the  biggest  little 
liar  that  ever  lived !  Why,  half  an  hour  ago  I 
was  for  having  him  soundly  thrashed  and  put  to 
bed  for  scaring  his  mother  and  the  rest  of  us  out 
of  our  seven  senses,  but  I'll  be  switched  if  he 
hasn't  done  the  pluckiest  thing  I  ever  heard  of  in 
a  boy  in  all  my  life." 

Certainly  that  was  O'Toole's  opinion.  They 
had  to  bear  him  along  very  slowly,  but  he  could 
talk  of  nothing  but  Buster  and  Buster's  exploit, 
and  Warner  went  ahead  with  the  little  man, 
Beppo  readily  consenting  to  a  rapid  gait,  as  it 
was  homeward  now,  and  there  at  the  ferry  landing 
was  Mrs.  Ross,  weeping  with  excitement  and  re- 
joicing, and  her  anxiety  forgotten,  and  all  sense  of 
proper  indignation  at  Buster's  outrageous  miscon- 
duct banished  by  the  story  of  his  exploit.  A  won- 
derful night  they  had  at  Frayne  while  the  mother 
and  one  or  two  sympathetic  souls  with  her  were 


TKOOPER  ROSS.  45 

giving  the  bantling  his  warm  bath  and  trying  to 
still  his  excitement  and  hush  his  tongue  and  get 
him  to  go  to  sleep,  but  over  at  the  hospital  where 
the  doctor  was  setting  Corporal  Billy's  leg,  and 
out  on  the  bluffs  again  where  Major  Crandall  with 
his  officer  of  the  day  was  seeking  explanation  of 
that  signal-fire  at  the  Butte,  and  along  among  the 
parlors  and  piazzas  of  officers'  row,  the  talk  was 
of  the  wonderful  pluck — or  sense — or  something, 
which  prompted  that  little  rascal  to  a  deed  that  was 
to  resound  throughout  the  whole  army.  "That 
he  should  fire  when  he  saw  those  Indians  coming 
I  can  understand  easily  enough,"  said  the  major. 
"  That  was  the  obvious — the  natural  thing  to  do, 
since  escape  would  have  been  impossible  on  Beppo. 
but  what  gets  me  is,  how  the  mischief  he  got  across 
the  river,  and  that's  something  only  he  and  Beppo 
know  and  that  Beppo  won't  tell." 

And  not  until  long,  very  long  after,  when  he 
had  grown  several  years  older  and  wiser,  did 
Buster  tell  the  real  truth  about  that  escapade  and 
how  he  came  to  cross  the  Platte,  but  we  may  as 
well  have  the  story  now  while  waiting  and  watch- 
ing for  explanation  of  that  sign  at  the  Butte. 
Fort  Frayne  couldn't  go  to  bed  until  every  man 
and  woman  in  it  had  talked  over  the  stirring  nar- 
rative of  Corporal  O'Toole  and  the  marvellous 
doings  of  Master  Roderick  Boss.  Nor  could  they 
sleep  until  something  came  to  explain  that  strange, 


46  TROOPEK  ROSS. 

unlooked-for  signal.  Once  more  liad  Warner,  with 
half  a  dozen  men  at  his  back,  ridden  cautiously 
out  north-westward,  crossing  the  now  pitch-dark 
prairie  in  long  extended  line  so  as  to  discover,  if 
a  possible  thing,  any  human  being  approaching 
from  the  direction  of  the  Butte.  Only  a  mile  or 
so  were  they  bidden  to  go,  for  the  major  did  not 
mean  to  run  the  risk  of  having  a  part  of  his  little 
garrison  cut  off  and  surrounded  in  the  open  field. 
If  the  signal  came  from  friends,  who  merely 
wanted  to  herald  their  own  approach,  they  might 
need  aid  through  running  into  the  same  party  of 
Indians,  two  of  whose  number  had  striven  to  kill 
O'Toole.  Therefore  Warner  was  sent  to  recon- 
noitre and  watch  and  listen,  and  while  we  are 
waiting  for  his  report  we  will  hear  Buster's  story 
as  told  after  he  had  grown  old  enough  to  be 
ashamed  of  exaggeration  and  to  despise  a  lie. 

"  I  was  all  broken  uj),"  he  said,  "  about  O'Toole's 
going.  He  had  sometimes  talked  of  taking  me 
with  him  when  he  went,  and  I  had  bragged  to  all 
the  boys  and  girls  at  Frayne  that  I  was  going, 
and  made  them  believe  I  was,  and  made  myself 
believe  it,  too,  and  when  I  thought  how  they'd 
laugh  and  jeer  next  day  I  couldn't  stand  it.  It 
made  me  miserable,  desperate,  and  I  made  up  my 
mind  I'd  saddle  Bepj)0  and  try  to  cross  up-stream. 
You  know  that  I  never  was  afraid  of  the  dark  as 
a  boy,  and  out  of  sheer  mischief  used  to  run  all 


TKOOPEE  KOSS.  47 

over  the  post  just  to  hide  from  nurse  and  mother. 
I  really  meant  to  go  with  O'Toole.  I  felt  sure  I 
could  ride  as  long  and  fast  as  he  could,  even  on 
Bep,  and  so  I  took  my  rifle  and  saddle-bags  and 
hid  them  down  under  the  west  bluff,  and  crammed 
some  eatables  in  the  haversack  and  stole  down  to 
the  corral  and  got  Bep  saddled,  and  sneaked  out 
with  him  while  they  were  saddling  Buford.  Then 
I  led  him  quietly  out  into  the  moonlight,  got  my 
duds  and  strapped  them  on  the  saddle,  and  then  I 
galloped  Bep  up  to  the  first  bend.  The  moon  was 
low,  but  I  could  see  across  easily  there,  and  drove 
Bep  in  until  up  to  his  chest,  and  then  he  fought 
and  backed  out.  So  he  did  farther  up,  and  I 
found  it  was  of  no  use,  he  wouldn't  swim,  so  I 
thought  of  the  ford  at  the  rapids.  It's  almost 
dry  in  midsummer.  We  had  crossed  there  dozens 
of  times,  but  I  never  knew  it  boiling  high  as  it 
was  that  night.  At  first  it  was  shallow  and  only 
up  to  his  belly.  Then  it  got  deeper,  and  then 
shallowed  up  again.  We  pushed  ahead  all  right 
until  we  were  more  than  half-way  across,  and  then 
came  the  big  bowlders  and  the  deep,  swift  water, 
and  the  first  thing  I  kn^w  Bep  was  swept  off  his 
feet,  and  away  we  went  sailing  down  into  the  pool. 
I  tell  you  I  was  scared  nearly  dead,  but  I  had 
sense  enough  to  cling  tight  to  the  mane.  We 
went  clear  under  once,  up  to  my  chest,  and  I 
thought  we  were  gone,  and  you  bet  I  cried  out, 


48  TEOOPER  KOSS. 

but  Bep  struck  out  like  a  little  spaniel  for  tlie 
shore  and  I  stuck  on,  and  the  next  thing  I  knew 
he  was  wading  again,  in  mud  too,  and  then  I 
thought  of  quicksands,  and  got  another  awful 
scare  when  he  began  plunging  and  bucking,  and 
at  last  landed  me,  wet  to  the  skin,  but  safe  and 
sound,  on  the  north  bank.  Then  I  just  had  to 
strike  out  to  find  O'Toole,  for  there  was  no  getting 
back  the  way  we  came,  and  I  never  thought  of 
Indians  coming  in  so  close  up  west  of  the  road 
where  the  prairie  was  open,  and  then,  after  we'd 
gone  out  a  little  distance,  I  heard  Buford's  hoofs 
and  the  shots,  and  then  he  came  a-running.  I 
was  almost  frozen  stiff  with  fright  at  the  minute, 
and  without  ever  looking  to  see  what  was  coming 
fired  desperately  at  the  dim  shapes  that  were  gal- 
loping towards  us,  and  then  Bep  and  I  went  for 
all  we  were  worth.  Buford  veered  and  ran  for 
the  bank  and  past  us,  going  on  out  of  sight,  and  I 
thought  we  were  lost,  but  Bep  galloped  on  as 
though  a  million  Indians  were  coming,  and  at  last 
I  saw  the  shining  water  just  ahead  and  came  to 
the  steep  bank,  and  there  on  the  shore  below  lay 
Billy  and  poor  Buford,  and  I  jumped  off  and  led 
Beppo  down,  and  then  as  the  Indians  didn't  come 
I  besran  to  see  what  a  tremendous  influence  that 
one  shot  from  that  pop-gun  of  mine  had  had,  and 
upon  my  word  I  began  to  believe  I  must  have  shot 
one  of  those  Indians  instead  of  Billy,  and  then  he 


TROOPER  ROSS.  49 

made  such  a  fuss  over  me  and  they  all  made  such 
a  fuss  that  I  grew  to  think  that  there  wasn't  an 
Indian  fighter  on  the  frontier  that  could  hold  a 
candle  to  Buster  Ross,  and  that's  the  whole  truth. 
If  Bep  hadn't  been  swept  off  his  feet  he  wouldn't 
have  swam  at  all,  and  I  couldn't  have  made  him, 
and  as  he  had  to  swim  or  drown,  he  put  out  for  the 
nearest  shore  and  took  me  along.  Our  getting 
over  was  the  biggest  kind  of  an  accident,  but  I 
made  the  most  of  it  and  swore  we  swam,  which 
was  partially  true, — we'd  have  drowned  if  we 
hadn't." 

And  that  was  how  Rod  Boss  got  his  start  in 
what  proved  to  be  an  eventful  boyhood,  and  led 
on  to  the  life  in  which,  as  a  mere  stripling,  he  won 
distinction  many  an  elder  envied  him.  But  on 
this  particular  night  in  June  it  must  be  admitted 
that  he  deserved  a  larruping,  and  a  sound  one, 
about  as  much  as  any  little  scamp  in  America, 
and  Buster's  friend,  the  major,  was  thinking  of 
this  and  how  he  would  ever  be  able  to  face  Boss, 
the  father,  on  his  return  from  the  campaign, 
when  the  first  news  came  from  the  party  far  out 
on  the  northward  prairie  and  put  Buster  and 
Buster's  doings  for  the  time  being  utterly  into 
the  shade. 

It  was  just  as  the  sentry  at  the  guard-house 
began  the  midnight  call  of  "  Number  One,  Twelve 
o'clock,"  that  the  new  sentry  on  Number  Three 


50  TROOPEK  ROSS. 

sang  out  to  the  little  group  of  officers,  "  Some- 
tliing  coming,  major.  I  can  hear  galloping 
hoofs."  Five  minutes  later  a  horseman  was  being 
ferried  over,  and  in  ten  was  dismounting  at  the 
major's  side. 

"  Lieutenant  Warner's  compliments,  sir,"  said 
he,  "and  he  wants  permission  to  push  ahead 
another  mile  or  so.  We  can  hear  distant  firing  at 
intervals,  and  he  is  sure  the  Indians  have  got  a 
little  party  corralled  at  the  Butte  and  that  that 
signal  was  for  help." 

Major  Crandall  was  a  brave  man, — a  cool,  reso- 
lute old  campaigner.  No  one  had  ever  heard  of 
his  failing  in  his  duty  or  would  accuse  him  of 
neglect  of  comrades  in  their  hour  of  need,  but  the 
major  hesitated  now,  and  well  he  might.  Only  a 
few  years  before,  only  a  few  days'  march  away 
around  the  shoulder  of  those  beautiful  Big  Horn 
mountains  to  the  north,  a  post  commander  like 
himself,  with  women  and  children  to  guard  like 
himself  (but  with  half  a  dozen  companies  at  his 
disposal,  while  Crandall  had  only  one),  sent  out  a 
little  detachment  one  day  to  protect  the  men 
engaged  in  chopping  wood  for  the  winter  supply. 
The  sentries  reported  sounds  of  firing,  and  word 
was  brought  in  that  reinforcements  were  needed, 
as  some  Indians  had  "jumped"  the  wood-cutters, 
and  they  were  too  many  for  the  few  soldiers  out 
there  among  the  pines.     Three  companies  were 


TROOPER  ROSS.  51 

hastily  assembled,  and  marclied  jauntily  forth  to 
make  short  work  of  those  marauding  Sioux. 
Women  and  children  watched  husbands  and 
fathers  march  away  with  only  slight  anxiety. 
What  could  a  few  beggarly  braves  do  in  face  of 
such  a  force  of  regulars  as  these  ?  But  though 
the  wood-choppers  they  marched  to  rescue  and 
the  comrades  they  were  sent  to  relieve  were  barely 
two  miles  off,  that  confident  little  battalion  never 
came  back.  Once  well  out  of  range  of  the  stock- 
ade, there  rose  up  as  from  the  teeming  earth,  like 
the  clansmen  of  Roderick  Dhu,  from  every  ravine 
and  swale,  from  behind  every  ridge  and  point, 
group  after  group  of  savage  warriors,  full  pano- 
plied, the  entire  fighting  force  of  the  renowned 
Ogallalla  chieftain  Red  Cloud,  and  out  upon  a 
narrow  ridge,  almost  in  full  view  of  the  now 
horror-stricken  wives  and  children  at  old  Fort 
Phil  Kearny,  Major  Fetterman  and  his  command 
were  slowly  massacred  until  not  one  was  left  to 
tell  the  tale. 

Then  how  could  Major  Crandall  say  the  word 
that  should  send  even  a  single  platoon  of  his  one 
company  five  miles  away  through  the  darkness 
of  night,  and  leave  only  a  beggarly  squad  to  de- 
fend in  case  of  need  the  women  and  children  of 
old  Fort  Frayne.  No  wonder  his  heart  sank 
within  him  as  he  listened  to  the  appeal  of  his 
young  subaltern,  eager  to  push  ahead  to  the  res- 


52 


TKOOPER  KOSS. 


cue,  yet  restrained  by  his  orders.  No  wonder  the 
hoarse  words  rose  to  his  lips,  "  God  help  them ! — 
I  cannot — I  dare  not.  Who  could  defend  these 
women  and  children  here  if  my  men  were  slaugh- 
tered there  ?" 


>»>Vlno^S«^' 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Whenevee  a  disaster  occurs  it  is  the  first  im- 
pulse of  the  populace  to  wreak  summary  vengeance 
on  some  supposably  responsible  party.  Somebody 
must  be  to  blame,  and  people  at  first  seem  to  care 
little  who  that  somebody  may  be,  provided  they 
can  relieve  their  minds  by  upbraiding  him  for 
the  misfortune  that  has  occurred  to  others.  It 
was  thus  the  first  impulse  of  the  critics  when  they 
heard  of  the  Fetterman  massacre  to  lavish  abuse 
upon  and  demand  the  punishment  of  the  com- 
manding officer  of  the  post  because  he  had  not  sent 
out  the  rest  of  his  little  command  to  the  succor  of 
the  half  that  was  already  gone.  This  was  precisely 
what  Red  Cloud  hoped  and  planned  that  he  should 
do,  as  in  that  event  the  women  and  children  would 
be  left  to  the  tender  mercies  of  himself  and  his 
braves,  while  their  defenders  were  being  slowly 
butchered  by  overpowering  hundreds  of  well- 
armed  warriors  out  on  the  open  hill-sides.    Luckily, 

5*  63 


54  TROOPER  ROSS. 

the  Indian  plan  became  apparent  as  soon  as  it  was 
seen  that  the  Sioux  were  in  strong  force,  and 
though  it  wrung  his  heart-strings  to  refuse  the 
appeals  of  some  officers  and  men  to  be  allowed  to 
go  and  do  what  they  could  to  save  their  com- 
rades, the  colonel  refused,  and  was  right. 

And  now,  this  still  June  midnight.  Major  Cran- 
dall  was  confronted  by  a  somewhat  similar  prob- 
lem. True,  there  was  nothing  definite  as  yet  to 
prove  that  friends  were  signalling  for  help  from 
Eagle  Butte.  That  striking  landmark  stood  full 
seven  miles  west  of  the  Eeno  trail,  far  off  the  line 
of  travel.  Downey,  the  courier,  who  had  ridden 
through  at  such  peril  to  his  life  the  previous  day, 
declared  that  no  detachment  from  the  field  column 
was  out  in  that  direction.  There  was  absolutely 
no  other  post  or  party  from  which  such  detach- 
ment could  have  come,  and  the  more  the  major 
and  his  officers  thought  of  it,  the  more  they  be- 
lieved that  it  was  all  part  and  parcel  of  an  Indian 
plan  to  lure  the  little  garrison  out  towards  the 
butte,  then  to  surround  and  slowly  shoot  it  down, 
as  was  done  at  Kearny  years  before,  and  then 
help  themselves  to  all  that  was  left  at  the  defence- 
less fort  across  the  stream.  Oh,  what  rich  spoil 
was  there !  "\\Tiat  glorious  revel  in  fire  and  blood 
and  rapine  would  they  not  enjoy !  "What  food 
for  years  and  years  of  boastings  and  exultation 
about  the  village  lodges, — around  the  fires  at  the 


TROOPEK  ROSS.  55 

war-dance!  On  every  account,  therefore,  Cran- 
dall's  decision  seemed  to  be  the  proj^er  one. 

But  the  young  sergeant  who  brought  Warner's 
message  was  a  soldier  who  had  enlisted  to  make 
a  name  for  himself,  and  win,  if  possible,  his  way 
to  a  commission.  He  listened  respectfully  to  the 
major's  decision,  and  yet  ventured  another  appeal. 

"  The  lieutenant  feared  that  the  orders  couldn't 
be  changed,  sir,"  said  he,  as  he  stood  there  sturdily 
at  attention,  the  dim  light  of  the  corporal's  lan- 
tern striking  on  his  clear-cut  face,  "  and  he,  too, 
thought  of  its  being  an  Indian  trick ;  but  if  it  were, 
sir,  wouldn't  they  have  been  apt  to  keep  up  the  fire 
or  to  repeat  the  signal  when  they  saw  that  we  didn't 
come  ?  If  Indians  are  trying  to  lure  us  farther 
out  from  the  fort,  some  of  them  must  be  hanging 
about  that  little  party  out  there  on  the  prairie,  and, 
noting  that  they  have  halted  and  that  they  seem 
undecided,  wouldn't  it  be  natural  to  do  a  little 
more  firing,  or  to  start  up  the  beacon  again  ?" 

Crandall  turned  and  studied  the  sergeant's  face, 
a  deep  shade  of  anxiety  on  his  own.  "  I  own  I 
have  been  expecting  the  signal-fire  to  start  again  ;" 
said  he,  "  and  was  there  no  firing  after  you  finally 
halted?" 

"  Only  a  far-away  shot  or  two,  sir,  nothing  else. 
We  lay  and  listened  some  time  before  I  was  sent 
in.  We  distinctly  heard  scattered  shots  just  as 
soon  as  we  got  far  enough  away  to  lose  the  sound 


56  TKOOPER  ROSS. 

of  the  rush  of  the  river,  and — I  beg  the  major's 
pardon — but  the  one  reason  why  that  fire  hasn't 
been  repeated,  it  seems  to  me,  is,  that  some  white 
men  are  corralled  in  the  rocks  and  can't  get  more 
fuel.  Indians  could  get  all  they  want  and  carry 
it  into  that  cleft  and  start  up  a  blaze  any  time, 
and  so  could  white  men  if  Indians  weren't  all 
around  them." 

"I  appreciate  all  that,  sergeant,"  said  the  major, 
while  the  infantry  captain  nodded,  as  much  as  to 
say,  "  That's  one  of  my  non-coms, — a  fine  speci- 
men of  what  we  carry  in  '  C  Company."  And 
then  the  major  looked  again  long  and  anxiously 
out  to  the  north-west.  "  The  main  point  against 
that  theory  is  the  utter  improbability  of  any  white 
men,  soldiers  or  scouts,  being  out  in  that  direc- 
tion. Downey  says  no  detachment  is  scouting 
south  of  Crazy  Woman's  Fork,  and  no  parties  have 
been  allowed  to  hunt  in  the  Big  Horn.  Then, 
who  could  it  be  ?" 

"  I  can't  say,  sir,  unless — the  major  knows  some 
of  the  men  volunteered  to  try  to  work  their  way 
through  the  Indian  country  to  the  Yellowstone 
and  find  General  Gibbon's  camp  that  ought  to  be 
there  somewhere.  Suppose  some  of  those  men 
got  headed  off  along  the  Big  Horn  Kiver  and  put 
back  west  of  the  mountains  because  the  Sioux  got 
between  them  and  the  main  body  of  our  people. 
Then  that's  the  direction  from  which  they  would 


i 


TROOPER  ROSS.  57 

come  trying  to  put  in  here  for  rations.  It  may- 
be some  of  our  own  men,  sir.  Some  of  Captain 
Eoss's  troop  perhaps.  They've  got  that  near  home 
only  to  be  corralled  by  Indians  at  the  last." 

"By  heaven,  Sergeant  Decker,  you  may  be 
right,  and  a  few  men  can  reach  them  easier  by 
night  than  by  day  if  Indians  are  their  only  be- 
siegers. At  all  events,  the  post  is  safe  for  the 
night,  perhaps,  and  we  can  let  a  few  men  venture 
to  try  and  open  communication.  Do  you  wish  to 
be  one  ?"  he  asked,  as  though  sure  of  the  answer. 

"  Certainly,  sir ;  and  the  lieutenant  says  he 
wishes  to  go,  and  Sergeant  Curran,  and,  for  that 
matter,  all  the  others  want  to  go." 

"  That  settles  it,  then,"  said  the  post  commander, 
decisively.  "Get  all  of  *C'  Company  but  the 
guard  down  at  the  ferry,  captain.  We'll  cross 
over  and  move  out  a  mile  or  so  in  support,  and  let 
Warner  reach  forward  and  see  what  he  can  find. 
They'll  never  dream  how  small  our  force  is,  and 
we'll  be  back  before  it's  daylight." 

But  the  dawn  comes  very  early  in  the  long 
June  days  and  these  high  latitudes.  It  would  be 
broad  daylight  by  four  o'clock,  and  now  it  was 
long  after  twelve.  Silently,  without  sound  of 
bugle  or  tap  of  drum,  Captain  Bosworth  marched 
his  remaining  thirty  soldiers  down  the  sloping 
roadway  to  the  ferry,  where  old  Driscoll  was  still 
up  and  alert.     Lights  were  peeping  from  many 


58  TEOOPEE  BOSS. 

of  the  officers'  quarters  and  burning  brightly  at 
the  guard-house  and  adjutant's  office  as  the  little 
column  trudged  away,  the  major,  his  adjutant,  and 
Sergeant  Decker,  mounted,  following  a  moment 
later.  At  the  post  there  remained  now  only  the 
quartermaster  and  the  officer  of  the  day  with  the 
few  soldiers  of  the  guard,  the  surgeon  and  steward, 
the  two  or  three  sick  and  wounded,  and,  as  their 
sacred  charges,  probably  thirty  families  of  the 
officers  and  sergeants.  No  wonder  that  among 
these  latter  there  was  weeping  and  anxiety,  for 
the  near  presence  of  Indians  and  the  incidents  of 
the  earlier  night  had  unstrung  everybody. 

Gazing  from  her  window  on  the  dim  outlines  of 
the  little  command  as  it  marched  away  across  the 
parade,  Mrs.  Ross  thanked  God  that  her  husband 
was  safe  among  his  trusty  men,  even  though  far 
away  in  the  heart  of  the  Indian  land,  and  that 
her  baby  boy,  the  hero  of  the  evening  gone  by, 
was  sleeping  soundly,  peacefully,  wearily,  at  last. 
Other  ladies,  too  worried  and  excited  to  sleep, 
gathered  for  the  time  being  at  the  quarters  of  the 
commanding  officer,  near  the  edge  of  the  bluff, 
and  listened  to  the  rush  of  the  river  over  its  stony 
bed,  the  creaking  of  the  blocks  as  the  heavily- 
laden  scow  was  slowly  pulled  to  the  northern 
bank,  and  then  in  awe-struck  silence  hung  about 
the  north  gallery,  listening  with  painful  anxiety 
for  any  sound  or  signals  from  the  front.     Here 


TKOOPER  EOSS.  59 

they  were  joined  by  the  doctor,  while  the  quarter- 
master and  Lieutenant  Morton,  officer  of  the  day, 
remained  out  on  the  grassy  part  of  the  bluff,  close 
to  the  foot  of  the  tall  flag-staff,  and  the  silence  of 
desolation  seemed  to  fall  on  old  Fort  Frayne. 
And  so  another  long,  long  hour  passed  away  and 
not  a  sign  or  sound  came  from  the  front.  Down 
at  the  ferry  landing  Driscoll's  dim  light  was  burn- 
ing, and  over  at  the  opposite  shore,  under  the 
bank,  another  faint  glimmer  told  where  two  or 
three  men  had  been  left  to  guard  the  ferry.  In 
pushing  forth  by  night  into  the  enemy's  country 
Crandall  meant  to  keep  secure  his  line  of  retreat. 
It  would  have  been  quite  possible  for  Indians  to 
slip  in  behind  them,  provided  they  could  overcome 
their  superstitious  fears,  and  with  their  keen 
knives,  under  cover  of  the  darkness,  hack  away 
at  the  great  cable  of  the  ferry  until  the  last  strand 
was  severed,  and  thereby  cut  off  all  possibility  of 
reinforcements  reaching  them  from  the  fort,  or 
indeed  of  the  return  of  those  soldiers  already  at 
the  front.  The  lantern  lay  under  the  bank,  but 
the  guardians,  flat  on  their  stomachs,  were  close 
to  its  top,  where  all  approaching  objects  were 
thrown  into  relief  against  the  starry  northern  sky. 
One  o'clock,  and  half-past  one,  in  muffled  tones 
the  sentries  at  the  post  had  cried,  and  some  one 
of  the  guard  across  the  stream,  as  though  to  re- 
assure the  watchers  at  the  fort,  echoed  back  the 


60  TEOOPEK  KOSS. 

glad  "  All's  well."  Surely,  though,  it  was  time 
to  hear  from  Warner  and  the  venturesome  little 
party  that  had  been  pushed  forth  into  the  night 
to  scout  the  jagged  slopes  of  Eagle  Butte.  Surely 
it  was  time,  high  time,  for  news  of  him. 

And  this  was  what  poor  Billy  O'Toole,  corporal 
of  Captain  Boss's  troop,  was  thinking,  as  he  lay 
there  in  hosj)ital  bemoaning  the  fate  that  laid 
him  up  with  a  broken  leg  no  sooner  than  he  had 
recovered  of  his  bullet-broken  arm.  The  de- 
spatches that  had  reached  Major  Crandall  to  be 
forwarded  to  General  Crook  in  the  field  near 
Tongue  Biver  were,  he  felt  assured,  of  grave  im- 
portance, and  he  had  done  his  best  to  make  the 
run  with  them,  only  to  be  beaten  back  at  the  very 
start  and  saved  from  death,  perhaps,  only  by  the 
accidental  presence  of  his  captain's  little  boy,  and 
now,  to  think  of  it !  when  the  garrison  was  out 
against  the  very  Indians  who  had  driven  him  in, 
and  when  there  were  indications  that  every  man 
with  a  soldier's  heart  in  his  breast  was  needed  on 
the  fighting  line,  here  was  he.  Corporal  O'Toole, 
the  Irish  boy  who  had  sworn  he'd  win  his  ser- 
geant's stripes  this  very  summer,  laid  by  the  heels 
like  a  bedridden  old  woman,  of  no  use  to  himself 
or  anybody  else.  "  Bad  luck  to  it  all,"  moaned 
Billy.  "  Why  didn't  I  remember  what  the  captain 
said,  and  never  go  the  east  side  of  the  mountains 
if  I  wanted  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  the  Sioux  ?" 


TKOOPEE  ROSS.  61 

And  with  that  a  sudden  idea  occurred  to  him. 
He  couldn't  sleep,  knowing  all  the  movement  and 
excitement  around  him  this  night.  The  hospital 
attendant  couldn't  stay  there  by  him  with  all  his 
own  eager  desire  to  hear  what  was  going  on  out- 
side, and  so,  at  one  o'clock,  after  a  brief  visit  from 
the  surgeon,  here  were  these  two  lively  troopers, 
Downey  with  his  shoulder  in  bandages,  O'Toole 
with  his  leg  in  splints,  comparing  notes  and 
cursing  their  luck  as  soldiers  will,  and  sadly  dis- 
turbing, I  fear,  the  two  or  three  patients  in  hos- 
pital with  mountain  fever  or  kindred  ailments. 
Soldiers  don't  get  the  fight  taken  out  of  them  by 
fractures  or  gun-shot  wounds.  Wasting  disease  it 
is  that  makes  them  childlike  and  meek,  and  now 
when  the  other  poor  fellows  were  apathetic  and 
only  wanted  to  sleep,  these  two  feverish  cripples 
were  keeping  themselves  and  everybody  else 
awake.  The  doctor  had  ponderously  felt  their 
pulses  and  bidden  them  go  to  sleep  when  he  came 
in  to  see  how  they  were  getting  on,  but  had  told 
them  nothing  of  the  situation  at  the  front,  hold- 
ing, no  doubt,  that  it  was  no  longer  any  of  their 
business.  Downey,  to  whom  opiates  had  been  ad- 
ministered to  relieve  his  pain,  had  been  drowsing, 
but  was  now  awake  and  under  a  fire  of  cross- 
questions.  The  attendant  had  let  O'Toole  know 
that  everybody,  almost,  had  gone  across  the  river 
to  back  up  the  effort  of  Lieutenant  Warner  to  find 


62  TKOOPER  ROSS. 

out  what  those  signals  meant  at  Eagle  Butte,  then 
he  himself  had  vanished,  and  it  was  while  he  was 
gone  that  Billy's  idea  came.  Downey  had  stoutly 
asserted  that  ujd  to  the  time  he  left  the  general's 
camp  on  Tongue  River  no  scouting-parties  or  de- 
tachments had  been  sent  out  to  the  south  or  east, 
therefore  none  from  camp  could  now  be  there  at 
Eagle  Butte.  "  Of  course,"  said  he,  "  some  fel- 
lows might  have  started  behind  me  with  later 
news  and  nearly  caught  me,  and  they've  been 
headed  ofi*  perhaps  at  Trooper  Creek.  They 
might  have  fled  westward  and  got  up  among  the 
boulders  and  niches  of  the  Butte,  but  I  don't  be- 
lieve it." 

"  But  was  no  one  out  scouting  west  from  camp, 
over  towards  the  Big  Horn  River  or  north  towards 
the  Yellowstone?"  queried  Billy,  merciless  of 
Downey's  pain  ;  and  then  at  last  as  late  as  one 
o'clock  did  the  courier  remember  that  not  one  but 
several  parties  had  gone  out,  among  them  a  lieu- 
tenant and  a  number  of  men  from  their  own  regi- 
ment, and  these  fellows  he  remembered  having 
heard  were  sent  out  westward,  and  had  not  been 
heard  from  up  to  the  time  of  his  leaving  camp 
three  days  before.  This  was  indeed  news,  and 
news  of  such  importance  that  O'Toole,  reckless 
of  the  peace  of  the  two  fever  patients,  lifted  up 
his  voice  in  a  shout  for  a  hospital  attendant,  who 
by  that  time  had  sneaked  far  over  to  the  guard- 


TROOPER  ROSS.  63 

house  to  learn  what  he  could  from  the  sergeant 
there  on  duty,  and  in  their  chat  and  the  excited 
talks  of  the  half-dozen  soldiers  in  the  guard- 
room, Billy's  shouts  went  up  unheard  by  their 
objects,  but  were  loudly  audible  across  the  parade. 
Mrs.  Ross,  kneeling  by  Roddie's  bedside,  started 
at  the  sound,  and  so  did  her  sleeping  boy.  Even 
in  his  almost  dreamless  slumber  the  little  fellow 
seemed  to  hear  and  answer  the  summons  of  his 
friend. 

Calling  her  sturdy  ally,  Cook,  to  come  from  her 
room  where  she  had  been  consoling  Katty  much 
of  the  night,  and  telling  her  to  watch  over  Roddie, 
Mrs.  Ross  slipped  a  shawl  over  her  shoulders  and 
hastened  out  across  the  dark  parade.  Up  by  the 
flag-staff  she  could  see  the  dim  light  of  the  cor- 
poral's lantern,  and  in  the  glare  of  the  parlor 
windows  distinguish  mantled  forms  on  the  major's 
porch.  Even  as  she  hurried  along  the  gravel 
path  that  led  to  the  hospital,  she  heard  O'Toole's 
voice  again,  angrily  and  appealingly  uplifted. 
"  Schlenger, — Schlenger,  ye  thafe !  Where  are 
ye  ?"  It  was  a  wonder  the  sound  did  not  reach 
the  watchers  at  the  north  end  of  the  post,  so  pow- 
erful was  his  shout.  But  Mrs.  Ross  stopped  for 
no  one  else.  It  was  Roddie's  friend  O'Toole  who 
was  calling  for  aid,  and  that  was  enough.  Breath- 
less, excited,  but  full  of  kind  intent,  she  reached 
the  old  wooden  building  and  eagerly  made  her 


g4  TROOPEE  ROSS. 

way  to  tlie  dimly-liglited  ward.  There  was 
O'Toole  braced  up  in  bed,  squirming  like  a  mad- 
man in  bis  effort  to  reach  the  curtain  and  direct 
bis  next  sbout  through  the  open  window. 

"What  is  it,  O'Toole?"  she  asked.  "What 
can  I  do  ?"  And  then  a  flash  of  joy  lit  the  Irish- 
man's face. 

"  For  the  love  of  God,  ma'am,  get  word  to  the 
major  it's  some  of  our  own  troop— the  captain's 
troop— that's  corralled  out  at  the  Butte.  Sure  he 
told  me,  he  told  them,  if  ever  they  was  cut  off 
when  riding  courier,  or  out  hunting,  to  kape  to 
the  west  of  the  mountains,  and  that's  what  these 
fellows  have  done  until  theysighted  the  Butte.  I 
kuo^  it,— I'll  bet  on  it,  ma'am !"  And  then  came 
the  attendant  hastening  in  just  as  she  would  have 
turned  to  go,  and  the  excited  voices  of  the  guard 
could  be  heard  as  they  ran  by,  some  of  them,  in 
answer  to  sudden  summons  from  the  bluff. 

"  They're  signalling  again !"  cried  Schlenger,  as 
he  hastily  entered,  then  stopped  abashed  at  seeing 
the  captain's  wife. 

"  Go  on  !"  she  cried.    "  Tell  us  what  you  know." 
"  There's  a  new  blaze  at  Eagle  Butte,  ma'am, 
and   Lanigan's   sounding   sick-call   again.      The 
ambulance  is  wanted  at  once." 

And  then  for  the  second  time  that  beautiful 
June  night  there  was  wild  excitement  at  Fort 
Frayne. 


CHAPTEK  V. 

Oke  thing  that  had  disturbed  Mrs.  Eoss  not  a 
little  was  the  fact  that  among  the  very  few  letters 
brought  in  by  the  courier  Downey  there  was  none 
for  her.  Captain  Ross  never  lost  an  opportunity 
of  sending  her  letters  or  messages  when  separated 
from  his  wife  by  the  inevitable  duties  of  Indian 
campaigning.  Not  one  summer  of  their  married 
lives  had  this  devoted  couple  been  able  to  pass  in 
peace  and  each  other's  company.  All  through 
the  war  of  the  Rebellion  Ross  had  been  with  his 
regiment  of  volunteer  cavalry  in  Virginia.  After 
the  war,  gazetted  to  a  mounted  regiment  in  the 
regulars,  he  had  been  sent  to  the  Western  frontier, 
and  there  life  had  been  one  long  succession  of 
Indian  raids,  chases,  and  campaigns  that  in  Arizona 
or  Texas  lasted  all  the  year  round,  but  here  in 
Wyoming  were  fortunately  limited,  except  on  rare 
occasions,  to  the  months  from  April  to  November. 
Hitherto  every  courier  or  scout  coming  in  had 
e  6*  6S 


66  TKOOPER  ROSS. 

brought  at  least  some  little  missive  with  a  few 
words  of  love  for  her  and  her  boy,  while  the 
regular  mail-carrier,  sent  in  with  a  strong  guard 
once  in  ten  days,  brought  a  big  budget.  Now  the 
last  long  letter  had  come  five  days  before  Downey, 
and  it  told  that  the  general  had  spoken  of  sending 
out  two  or  three  detachments  to  scout  the  northern 
foot-hills  of  the  Big  Horn  and  the  beautiful  valleys 
between  them  and  the  Yellowstone.  His  scouts 
sent  forth  to  penetrate  the  Indian  country  and 
carry  despatches  to  the  commands  of  Generals 
Terry  and  Gibbon  along  the  Yellowstone  had 
either  been  driven  back  or  were  heard  of  no  more 
until  long  months  had  elapsed,  and  no  one  knew 
just  where  the  great  Indian  villages  lay.  On 
every  side  their  active  war-parties  harassed  the 
outposts  and  pickets,  sometimes  even  creeping 
close  enough  to  fire  into  the  camps,  but  all  efibrt 
to  locate  the  main  body  had  been  vain.  One 
reconnoissance  in  force  had  demonstrated  the  fact 
that  there  were  far  too  many  warriors  for  the  Gray 
Fox,  as  the  Sioux  called  General  Crook,  to  tackle 
with  the  troops  he  had,  and  while  waiting  for  more 
to  reach  him,  he  was  striving  to  find  out  what  he 
could  with  regard  to  the  numbers  and  position  of 
the  Indians. 

Captain  Koss  was  a  man  after  Crook's  own 
heart,  a  soldier  who  loved  his  duty  and  did  it  "  up 
to  the  handle,"  and  the  moment  Mrs.  Ross  read  in 


TROOPER  ROSS.  67 

the  letter  that  somebody  was  to  be  sent  out  to  scout 
for  the  villages,  she  felt  sure  it  would  be  her  hus- 
band and  his  gallant  troop.  The  surgeon  had 
assured  her  that  Downey  had  said  he  left  under 
sudden  orders  and  in  a  great  hurry,  that  Frank 
Grouard,  Crook's  favorite  scout,  had  just  come  in 
with  some  important  information,  and  the  general 
wrote  despatches  at  once  to  General  Sheridan,  and 
these,  carefully  packed  in  oil-skin,  he  had  been 
told  to  dash  through  with  to  Frayne,  and  from 
there  Major  Crandall  would  forward  them  to 
Laramie.  Downey  only  brought  a  small  pouch 
of  letters  hurriedly  scribbled  by  the  few  officers 
who  happened  to  be  around  head-quarters  just  be- 
fore his  start.  He  hadn't  seen  Caj)tain  Ross  for  a 
day  or  so  and  hadn't  heard  of  his  being  out  scout- 
ing, but  he  might  be  for  all  Downey  knew.  And 
now  when  she  heard  this  summons  for  the  ambu- 
lance and  soon  heard  Lanigan's  bugle  far  away 
across  the  Platte  winding  the  familiar  tones  of 
sick-call,  poor  Mrs.  Ross  would  again  have  be- 
sieged Downey  with  questions,  but  the  doctor  came 
hurrying  in,  and  saw  how  flushed  and  feverish 
his  patient  was  already  looking,  had  him  screened 
off  forthwith,  ordered  O'Toole  to  silence,  and 
sternly  rebuked  him  for  making  such  a  row  in 
the  hospital  at  night,  and  then,  offering  Mrs.  Ross 
his  arm,  politely  but  positively  invited  her  to 
leave. 


68  TROOPEE  ROSS. 

"  Let  me  take  you  back  home,"  he  said.  "  You 
can  do  nothing  but  harm  over  here.  I  had  to 
order  that  crazy  pate  Katty  of  yours  out  of  the 
ward  two  hours  ago,  and  now  here  you  are  doing 
almost  as  much  mischief  as  she  might.  And  Mrs. 
Boss,  though  sorely  anxious,  could  not  but  see 
that  the  doctor  was  right.  But  instead  of  going 
home  she  begged  to  be  allowed  to  join  Mrs.  Cran- 
dall  and  other  ladies  at  the  major's,  where,  as  it 
would  soon  be  daybreak,  they  could  perhaps  see 
what  was  coming  from  across  the  Platte. 

And  so  for  a  second  time  this  eventful  night 
did  even  so  devoted  and  watchful  a  mother  quit 
guard  over  Master  Roderick  Boss,  who,  flushed 
with  the  triumph  of  early  evening,  was  sleeping, 
to  be  sure,  but  with  no  one  but  sleepy  Cook  to 
watch  over  him.  Meantime,  poor  Katty,  learning 
in  some  way  that  O'Toole  had  been  shouting  for 
help,  was  again  up,  and,  dishevelled  and  carelessly 
dressed,  had  run  out  ostensibly  "to  find  the 
missus,"  but  really  to  be  near  her  lover,  and  there 
at  the  hospital  the  doctor  found  her,  as  he  was 
hastily  preparing  his  field-case  of  instruments, 
bandages,  etc.,  while  some  of  the  men  were  hitch- 
ing the  only  remaining  mules  to  the  ambulance, 
and  then  the  doctor  said  all  manner  of  rebuke  as 
he  hustled  the  protesting  maiden  out  into  the  still 
and  starry  night,  and  bade  her  go  back  to  bed  and 
not  come  around  there  again  making  a  bedlam  of 


TROOPER  ROSS.  69 

the  hospital  and  a  fool  of  herself.  Dr.  Short  was 
sometimes  as  brusque  as  his  own  name,  and  poor 
Katty  went  home  weeping  and  wailing  to  pour  out 
her  sorrows  to  Cook,  who  in  turn  upbraided  her 
for  making  such  a  noise,  and  between  them  they 
woke  up  Buster. 

Now,  Buster  had  been  dreaming  over  the  events 
of  the  evening,  not  as  they  occurred,  but  rather 
as  he  had  painted  them,  and  he  was  in  most  heroic 
mood  when,  the  first  scare  over  and  Katty  with 
her  tears  had  been  banished  from  the  room,  Cook 
told  him  how  his  mother  had  gone  to  the  major's, 
where  most  of  the  ladies  were,  because  there  had 
been  a  fight  out  by  Eagle  Butte  and  somebody 
was  wounded  and  they  had  sent  for  the  ambulance, 
and  then  nothing  would  do  but  the  boy  must 
scramble  out  of  bed  and  sit  by  the  window  where 
he  could  hear  for  himself  what  was  going  on.  It 
was  useless  for  Cook  to  remonstrate  and  worse  for 
her  to  use  compulsion.  Buster  would  have  raised 
an  outcry  that  would  appall  the  garrison.  Believ- 
ing that  his  mother  would  soon  return.  Cook  sur- 
rendered and  rocked  resignedly  in  her  big  chair 
by  the  now  deserted  bed,  while  Roderick,  rifle  in 
hand,  and  clad  only  in  his  bifurcated  night-robe, 
took  station  at  the  window. 

Away  went  the  ambulance  rattling  down  the 
hill  just  about  quarter  to  three  o'clock,  while  an 
anxious  group,  augmented  every  moment  by  new 


70  TEOOPER   ROSS. 

arrivals  from  otlier  officers'  quarters,  gathered  in 
the  major's  parlor  and  piazza.  It  was  growing 
chilly,  and  the  ladies  wrapped  themselves  closer 
in  their  shawls,  or  their  husband's  military  capes, 
as  they  huddled  together  on  the  gallery  overlook- 
ing the  valley,  wistfully,  tearfully  in  many  cases, 
peering  out  into  the  darkness  beyond  and  speak- 
ing occasionally  in  low,  awe-struck  tones.  They 
heard  the  rattle  of  hoof  and  wheel  as  the  ambu- 
lance was  drawn  aboard  the  scow,  the  creak  of 
blocks  as  the  old  craft  once  more  went  swinging 
out  across  the  stream,  the  voices  of  men  indis- 
tinctly audible  above  the  murmur  and  wash  of 
the  waters,  and  then  saw  the  good-by  wave  of 
the  lantern,  as  the  vehicle  was  rushed  up  the 
opposite  shore  and  clattered  away  to  the  front. 

And  then  for  half  an  hour  more  they  watched 
and  waited,  and  then,  just  as  a  pallid  light  began 
to  creep  up  into  the  eastward  sky,  and  the  sentries 
had  done  crying,  "  Three  o'clock,"  the  officer  of 
the  day  came  springing  in  from  the  bluff  and 
asked  for  the  major's  field-glasses.  "  Somebody's 
coming  slowly  in  'way  out  there  to  the  north,"  said 
he,  "and  we  can  hear  distant  firing." 

Mrs.  Ross  could  never  afterwards  explain  what 
strange  fear  it  was  that  took  her  homeward  a 
moment  later,  but  it  was  something  about  Roddie, 
and  something  apparently  well  grounded,  for  when 
she   ran   panting  up  the  stairway  and  into  the 


TROOPER   ROSS.  71 

pretty,  dimly-lighted  room  where  she  had  left 
her  baby-boy  placidly  sleeping  less  than  an  hour 
before,  lo !  there  was  Cook  snoring  beside  the 
empty  bed,  and  for  the  second  time  that  night  her 
birdling  had  flown. 

Gone  was  the  little  rifle ;  gone  were  the  little 
boots  and  stockings  and  the  blue  flannel  shirt  he 
loved  to  wear  because  it  was  like  that  which  daddy 
dressed  in  on  campaign ;  gone  were  his  cap  and 
cartridge-belt ;  gone,  alack !  was  Buster.  The 
sounds  of  skirmishing  perhaps  had  reached  him 
from  afar.  At  all  events  something  had  fired  his 
soul  with  longing  for  another  show  at  the  front, 
and  the  son  and  heir,  the  hope  and  pride,  but,  alas ! 
not  the  comfort,  of  the  household  of  Ross  was  up 
and  away,  and  there  was  no  man  to  follow  him. 

This  time  Mrs.  Ross  did  not  faint.  She  flew  at 
Cook  and  then  at  Katty,  and  then  down-stairs,  and 
then  to  the  quartermaster's  corral,  where  a  recruit 
sentry  was  scared  out  of  his  seven  senses  at  her 
frenzied  coming,  and  only  escaped  shooting  her  in 
his  frantic  dread  that  the  Indians  were  upon  him 
through  the  fact  that  his  rifle  refused  to  go  off"  at 
half-cock. 

Into  the  gate  she  rushed  in  hopes  of  overhauling 
her  fledgling  ere  he  could  mount  and  gallop,  but 
this  time  came  on  a  wrong  scent.  Here  in  his 
stall  dozed  Beppo,  heedless  of  the  gathering  ex- 
citement at  the  post,  and  then  it  dawned  upon  her 


72  TKOOPER  BOSS. 

that  her  little  man  might  not  care  to  swim  the 
Platte  a  second  time  that  night,  and,  whatever  his 
plan  might  be,  it  involved  no  more  of  Beppo,  unless 
indeed  she  had  followed  so  quickly  that  he  had 
had  no  time  to  saddle  and  get  away. 

Bidding  the  sentry  guard  that  door-way  until 
the  corporal  came,  and,  on  peril  of  his  life,  not  to 
let  her  little  boy  in  if  he  were  out  or  out  if  he 
were  in,  back  she  scurried — a  long  weary  climb  up- 
hill again  to  the  major's  quarters — to  gasp  and  cry 
and  tell,  what  they  already  knew,  that  again  had 
Master  Roderick  broken  bounds.  They  could 
hardly  give  ear  to  her  now.  The  officer  of  the 
day  had  sent  the  corporal  down  to  head  him  off 
if  he  appeared  at  the  ferry.  There  was  really 
nothing  more  to  be  done,  only  listen, — listen  ajid 
look.  "  They  are  fighting  dreadfully  out  there," 
sobbed  one  poor  wife  and  mother,  gazing  with 
staring  eyes  across  the  now  vaguely  lighted  valley, 
out  towards  where  the  crests  of  distant  heights 
were  taking  on  faint  hues  of  purple  and  pink. 
There  in  the  intervening  lowlands,  like  fireflies, 
every  now  and  then  came  spiteful  little  flashes, 
every  now  and  then  the  sharp  though  distant 
ping-g  of  the  death-dealing  rifle,  and  now  all 
Fort  Frayne  was  crowding  to  the  bluff  and  wait- 
ing for  the  sound  of  battle,  and  old  Driscoll,  with 
his  ferry-boat  and  his  two  guards,  was  grappling 
sturdily  the  north  bank  and  getting  everything  in 


TEOOPER   ROSS.  73 

readiness  to  carry  over  the  troops  as  soon  as  they 
should  come  in,  and  not  a  word  could  be  got  out 
of  him  or  anybody  else  across  the  stream  as  to 
what  had  become  of  Buster. 

But  over  on  the  northward  prairie  were  men 
who  could  answer  the  question,  though  it  was  too 
much  for  any  one  at  the  fort.  Out  over  that  hard, 
elastic  turf,  bearing  straight  away  from  the  Reno 
road  and  heading  for  the  dimly  outlined  butte, 
the  ambulance  had  been  driven  at  a  lunging  gal- 
lop, following  Lanigan's  lead.  A  mile  away,  and 
within  view  of  the  occasional  flashes  that  told 
where  the  fighting  line  was  at  work,  there  came 
a  faint  hail  from  a  clumj)  of  dark  objects  off  to 
the  left  that  fortunately  caught  the  bugler's  ear, 
despite  the  rattling  of  the  rickety  trap  behind 
him. 

"Who  are  you  fellers?"  shouted  he  in  the 
"  lingo"  of  the  frontier,  and  the  answer  promptly 
came. 

"Drive  over  here  with  your  ambiance.  The 
lieutenant  can't  hold  out  no  longer." 

And  even  as  Lanigan  called  to  the  excited 
driver  to  follow  close  in  his  tracks,  the  figure  of  a 
horseman  loomed  into  view,  coming  from  the 
direction  of  the  firing,  and  a  voice  they  all  knew 
and  obeyed  instinctively  called  a  halt. 

"  Wait  just  where  you  are,  Lanigan.  I've  two 
more  right  here.  We've  seen  the  last  of  the 
p  7 


74  TKOOPER   EOSS. 

Indians  this  trip."  Then,  as  the  vehicle  came  to 
a  stand-still,  the  young  adjutant  rode  a  bit  to  one 
side,  calling,  "Where  are  you,  Fred,  old  boy? 
Let's  get  you  oif  that  horse  now  and  into  the 
ambulance,"  and  there  came  reply  from  the  dark- 
ness. 

"I'm  'fraid  the  lieutenant's  fainted,  sir,  'n'  I 
can't "  and  the  last  words  were  lost  in  inarticu- 
late sound.  It  was  evident  the  speaker  was  stag- 
gering under  some  heavy  load.  The  adjutant 
sprang  from  his  saddle  and  ran  to  his  assistance. 
Lanigan,  tumbling  off  his  horse,  tossed  the  reins 
of  the  two  over  the  front  wheel  and  followed  his 
officer,  and  dim  figures  came  into  view  supporting 
some  sorely  wounded  comrades  from  the  direction 
of  the  front,  where  the  firing  had  died  away 
entirely,  and  presently  the  major's  voice  was 
heard  conveying  to  invisible  skirmishers  instruc- 
tions to  "  fall  back  there  on  the  left  and  swing  in 
towards  the  river,"  and  then,  in  charge  of  the  little 
party  of  bearers  and  burdens,  came  Sergeant  Cur- 
ran,  just  as  a  diminutive,  boyish  form  backed  out 
from  the  dark  depths  of  the  ambulance  and 
lowered  itself  to  the  steps  at  the  rear  and  thence  to 
the  ground,  and  then,  Ballard  in  hand,  stood  bolt 
upright  by  the  rear  wheel  just  in  time  to  receive 
the  incoming  party,  and  lo !  there  was  Buster. 

Sergeant  Curran  didn't  know  whether  to  swear 
with  wrath  or  shout  with  ecstasy.     He  caught  the 


TKOOPER   ROSS.  75 

little  rascal  iu  his  arms  and  lifted  him  to  his 
shoulder.  "  You  young  imp  !"  he  cried,  "  how  on 
earth  did  you  get  here  this  time  ?" 

"  Corned  in  the  ambulance,"  said  Buster,  stoutly. 
"  Caught  it  on  the  jump  as  it  went  down-hill  and 
climbed  in  behind.  I  knew  old  Driscoll  wouldn't 
let  me  cross  if  he  saw  me,  so  I  hid  under  the  seat. 
Is  the  fight  all  over  ?" 

"  Hark  to  him  now,  lieutenant !  Sir,  I  beg  par- 
don, but  will  you  listen  to  this  ?  Here's  Masther 
Roderick  wants  to  know  is  the  fight  over.  Oh, 
Lord,  what  wouldn't  his  father  say  !" 

But  the  lieutenant  who  came  running  up  was 
in  no  mood  for  praise.  It  was  Warner  this  time. 
"  You  here,  you  precious  young  scalawag  ?  'Pon 
my  soul,  but  you  deserve  a  larruping !  Do  you 
never  think  of  the  misery  you  are  causing  your 
mother?  How'd  he  get  here?  What  do  you 
mean  by  bringing  him  over  at  this  time  of  night, 
— at  such  a  time,  anyhow  ?"  he  asked,  indignantly, 
of  the  driver. 

"I  never  dreamed  the  boy  was  there,  sir," 
protested  the  poor  fellow  thus  wrathfully  accused. 
"  He  must  have  jumped  in  as  I  was  driving  down 
the  hill." 

"I  did,"  said  Buster,  proudly.  ''I  wasn't 
going  to  stay  over  there  with  all  those  crying 
women  when — when  there  was  fighting  goin'  on 
over  here.     How'd  I  know  that  it  mightn't  have 


76  TROOPER   ROSS. 

been  papa  and  his  men  that  were  corralled  over 
there  at  the  butte  ?" 

And  AVarner  could  storm  no  longer.  Partly 
in  sheer  delight  at  the  little  scamp's  supreme  im- 
portance, partly  in  admiration  of  his  daring, 
partly  because  at  this  moment  the  adjutant  with 
Lanigan  came  bearing  between  them  an  almost 
helpless  man,  Warner  ceased  and,  with  a  cry  of 
distress,  sprang  to  aid  them. 

"  Fred !  AVhy,  good  God,  dear  boy  !  I  didn't 
dream  it  was  so  bad  as  this." 

And  then  indeed  did  Buster's  nerve  give  way, 
and  in  sheer  distress  and  shock  the  little  fellow 
burst  into  tears,  for  Fred  was  none  other  than  the 
second  lieutenant  of  his  own  father's  troop,  who, 
with  a  sergeant  and  six  men,  had  been  cut  off 
from  their  party  while  scouting  in  the  Big  Horn, 
and,  slipping  out  by  night,  had  made  the  best  of 
their  way  around  the  western  base  of  the  moun- 
tains and  almost  back  to  old  Fort  Frayne  before 
being  again  headed.  Then,  retreating  to  the 
rocks  of  Eagle  Butte,  they  had  stood  the  Indians 
off  and  signalled  for  aid,  which,  thanks  to  the  per- 
sistence of  Sergeant  Decker,  had  at  last  reached 
them,  but  not  until  two  of  the  little  party  and  one 
of  Warner's  men  had  been  seriously  wounded. 

"  This  has  been  the  wildest  night  I  ever  knew 
at  any  post  I  ever  served  at,"  said  the  gray-haired 
major,  as  at  last  the  sun  came  peeping  up  over  the 


TEOOPER   ROSS.  77 

horizon  and  all  Fort  Frayne  seemed  gathered  at 
the  bluff  to  welcome  the  warriors  home;  "and, 
Sergeant  Decker,  your  name  goes  forward  with  my 
recommendation  for  a  commission  before  I'm  an 
hour  older,  and  as  for  Buster,  I'm  going  to  swear 
him  in  as  high  private  in  '  C  Troop  this  very  day, 
— after  his  mother  gets  done  whipping  him." 

But  there  was  no  whipping  in  store  for  Rod- 
die,  much  as  he  might  deserve  it.  Perhaps  had 
fewer  people  recommended  and  urged  it,  Mrs. 
Boss  would  have  administered  the  unaccustomed 
punishment,  but,  somehow,  the  more  people  tell 
parents  what  they  ought  to  do  with  their  children 
the  less  are  parents  apt  to  do  it.  Boddie  was 
doubtless  kissed  and  cried  over  a  great  deal  and 
scolded  not  a  little,  and  Billy  O'Toole  in  hospital 
said,  "  Hurrah  for  Buster !"  and  Lieutenant  Fred 
Winter  said,  "Hurrah  for  Buster !"  and  "  C"  Troop 
to  a  man,  when  they  heard  of  the  adventure,  said, 
"Hurrah  for  Buster!"  and  the  story  went  the 
rounds  of  the  bivouacs  on  the  Deje  Agie,  and 
everybody  said  the  boy  was  cut  out  for  a  soldier 
and  would  never  be  fit  for  anything  else,  which 
was  how  the  little  fellow  was  given  his  start  on 
the  road  to  a  commission  and  became  known, 
throughout  the  old  regiment,  at  least,  as  "  Trooper 
Ross." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

And  now  we  come  to  what  might  be  called  the 
second  stage  of  Buster's  climb.  He  had  made  a 
record,  as  the  troopers  laughingly  said,  and  came 
very  near  being  spoiled  as  a  result.  Captain  Ross 
being  away  much  of  the  time,  as  his  duties  de- 
manded in  those  days  of  almost  incessant  cam- 
paigning, the  boy  was  left  to  the  control  of  his 
mother,  and  his  mother,  as  we  have  seen,  was 
somewhat  variable  and  certainly  over-indulgent. 
For  a  few  months  after  the  episode  of  Eagle 
Butte  our  Roddie  put  on  more  airs  over  the  other 
boys  at  Frayne  than  they  could  consistently  stand. 
Big  or  little,  they  were  more  or  less  jealous  of  his 
fame,  and  when  the  story  appeared  in  print,  as 
appear  it  did  (a  wandering  correspondent  of  a 
New  York  daily  being  stranded  there  in  the  wake 
of  the  field  column,  and  only  too  glad  to  get  any- 
thing to  write  about).  Buster's  unpopularity  among 
his  kind  was  something  appalling.  It  must  be 
78 


TROOPER  ROSS.  79 

owned  that  lie  wasn't  the  happiest  boy  in  the 
world  the  rest  of  that  long  summer,  but  presently 
there  came  news — dreadful  news  that  turned  the 
little  garrison  into  a  grief-stricken  community, 
and  though  he  wouldn't  have  owned  it  for  the 
world,  dashed  all  Buster's  tremendous  schemes  of 
escaping  from  Frayne  and  joining  his  father's  troop 
in  the  field.  The  very  day  after  the  Glorious 
Fourth  brought  the  tidings  that  General  Custer 
and  his  gallant  troopers  of  the  Seventh  Cavalry 
had  been  massacred  to  a  man,  and  the  hearts  of 
the  women  and  children  at  the  fort  were  filled 
with  terror  and  dread ;  nor  were  there  lacking 
men  whose  faces  blanched  at  the  thought  of  en- 
countering such  a  fate,  and  fellows  who  eagerly 
sought  to  ride  as  couriers  before  couldn't  be  hired 
to  try  it  now. 

Indeed,  so  fearful  was  the  government  that,  en- 
couraged by  their  wild  success,  the  Indians  might 
concentrate  all  their  force  first  on  one,  then  on  the 
others  of  the  three  separate  commands  of  troops 
then  in  the  field,  that  strong  reinforcements  were 
ordered  out,  and  the  valley  of  the  Platte  was 
soon  alive  with  dusty  blue  columns  and  the  white 
tops  of  army  wagons  creeping  steadily  up-stream. 
And  then  a  long,  long  campaign  followed,  and 
early  in  August,  General  Crook's  command,  with 
which  Captain  Ross  was  serving,  marched  from 
the  camp  on  Tongue  River  and  was  swallowed  up 


80  TROOPEK  ROSS. 

in  the  Indian  country  beyond.  The  next  heard 
of  them  they  were  away  up  at  the  Yellowstone, 
then  away  down  the  Yellowstone  with  Terry's 
men,  and  then  they  cut  loose  again,  and  for  weeks 
were  heard  of  no  more.  Fancy  the  anxiety  and 
distress  of  the  wives  and  mothers  waiting — wait- 
ing and  praying  at  those  frontier  forts.  Not  until 
late  in  September  were  Crook's  soldiers  reported 
again,  and  then  it  was  far  over  at  the  east,  in  the 
Black  Hills  of  Dakota,  which  they  had  reach.ed, 
said  the  papers,  "  in  rags  and  starvation,"  having 
had  to  eat  their  horses  to  keep  alive ;  and  this  in 
great  measure  proved  to  be  true.  The  Indians 
had  everywhere  burned  off  the  grass.  The  sol- 
diers had  neither  tents  nor  wagons, — nothing  but 
pack-mules  for  rations  and  ammunition,  and  these 
rations  were  speedily  used  up,  and  the  command 
left  to  forage  upon  a  barren  country.  Buster 
nearly  cried  his  eyes  out  when  he  heard  that 
several  of  his  pet  horses  in  his  father's  troop  had 
dropped  exhausted  by  the  way-side  and  were 
killed  to  prevent  their  falling  into  the  Indians' 
hands,  and  that  later  three  more  were  shot  for 
food, — such  food !  tough,  stringy,  and  revolting, 
yet  better  than  what  was  left  of  cavalry  boots. 

Captain  Boss  came  home  in  November,  look- 
ing like  the  ghost  of  himself,  so  thin  and  scrawny 
had  he  grown,  and  Mrs.  Boss  cried  over  him  as 
she  had  over  Buster,  but  the  boy  danced  about 


TEOOPER  ROSS.  81 

"Daddy"  in  exuberant  delight.  Now  tlie  rides 
would  begin  again,  and  he'd  show  papa  how  to 
ford  the  Platte  in  lots  of  places  and  take  him  out 
to  "  Buster's  Battle-Field,"  as  the  ofiicers  fairly 
maddened  the  other  boys  by  naming  the  scene  of 
"  the  affair  of  June  20th,"  as  it  was  termed  in 
military  despatches.  Grand  times  had  the  boy 
and  his  fond  and  devoted  father  for  several  weeks 
after  the  hard  campaign  was  ended,  and  many  a 
time  did  they  ride  over  the  scene,  and  many  and 
many  a  time  did  Buster,  with  flashing  eyes  and 
flushing  cheeks,  go  over  the  thrilling  story.  And 
that  winter  when  the  Fourth  Cavalry  came  back, 
after  their  sharp  fight  with  the  Clieyennes,  a  famous 
colonel  patted  Buster  on  the  head  with  what  was 
left  of  his  hand, — several  fingers  of  it  having  been 
shot  away  during  the  war, — and  told  him  that  he 
hadn't  any  boys  of  his  own,  but  if  he  had  he'd 
rejoice  if  they  could  ride  and  shoot  and  fight 
Indians  like  him,  which  still  further  puffed  Master 
Roderick ;  and  that  miserable,  mean,  big  bully,  Jim 
Parkinson,  Captain  P.'s  boy,  three  years  older  and 
bigger  than  Roddie,  tormented  and  teased  and 
jeered  and  nagged  him  into  a  fight,  and  sent  the 
Indian  killer  howling  home  with  a  bloody  nose. 
I'm  glad  to  say  Jim  Parkinson's  papa  soundly 
hided  him  for  his  sins  that  very  day,  for  Roddie 
had  been  wantonly  set  upon,  and  he  made  a  gallant 
and  furious  defence  against  heavy  odds. 
/ 


82  TROOPEE  ROSS. 

But  Captain  Ross  had  long  since  begun  to  see 
that  the  garrison  was  no  place  in  which  to  bring 
up  and  educate  his  son,  and  had  been  planning 
to  send  him  to  an  Eastern  school  just  so  soon  as 
he  was  old  enough  to  leave  his  mother ;  and  this 
winter,  finding  lessons  utterly  neglected  for  the 
months  of  his  absence,  the  father  spoke,  and  pre- 
cipitated a  tearful  time.  Mrs.  Ross  declared  her 
precious  child  should  never  go  without  her,  and 
Master  Rod  declared  he'd  never  go  where  he 
couldn't  shoot  and  ride  and  be  near  the  old  troop. 
"Why,"  said  he,  "it  would  just  break  Beppo's 
heart,  and  Billy  O'Toole's,  too."  Very  possibly 
the  captain  might  have  carried  his  point  had  he 
only  been  able  to  go  East  with  them  for  a  few 
months  and  see  the  little  fellow  safely  lodged  as 
a  boarder  in  the  Rockford  Academy,  but  officers 
could  not  be  spared  that  winter,  and  the  whole 
command  was  in  the  field  all  the  following  sum- 
mer ;  and  though  Captain  Ross  left  strict  injunc- 
tions what  Rod  should  study  and  how  much  he 
must  learn,  the  lessons  soon  flagged  with  the 
father  away,  and  another  Christmas  came  around 
with  the  boy  still  struggling  with  seven  times 
eight  and  getting  it  wrong,  and  never  being  able 
to  tell  whether  Albany  was  the  cajDital  of  New 
York  or  New  England. 

Another  year  and  they  were  transferred  from 
Frayne  far  up  into  the  wilds  of  the  Wind  River 


TROOPER   ROSS.  83 

valley  and  stationed  at  a  lovely  spot  close  under 
the  beautiful  peaks  to  the  south,  and  there  was 
splendid  shooting  in  the  mountains, — deer,  bear, 
lynxes,  and  catamounts,  and  wondrous  trout-fish- 
ing in  the  ice-cold  streams,  clear  as  crystal,  that 
came  tumbling  and  foaming  down  out  of  the  rocks, 
and  there  was  a  big  Indian  reservation  close  at 
hand, — Shoshones, — and  Kod  spent  more  days, 
weeks,  and  months  in  saddle  and  little  in  study, 
and  there  was  no  school  at  Washakie,  no  one  to 
teach  him  but  his  father,  when  father  was  home, 
and  his  doting,  but  easily  influenced  mother  when 
father  was  away. 

Strong,  hearty,  brimful  of  fun  and  mischief 
and  pluck  and  spirits,  not  so  big  a  braggart,  but 
still  having  quite  a  little  to  say  for  himself,  Rod- 
erick Ross  burst  into  his  teens  as  sturdy  a  looking 
boy  as  one  could  ask  to  see,  with  lots  of  good  in 
him,  but  precious  little  geography  and  grammar. 
And  here  at  Waskakie  they  spent  a  placid  and 
uneventful  and,  so  far  as  Rod  was  concerned,  un- 
profitable two  years.  The  captain  had  to  be 
scouting  weeks  at  a  time,  and  lessons  had  to  be 
conducted  by  mamma,  and  Rod  could  coax  and 
wheedle  her  out  of  all  sense  of  duty  in  the 
matter.  It  was  not  until  that  boy  was  fourteen 
years  old  that  at  last  the  father  set  his  foot  down 
and  took  him  East  to  school. 

This  was  in  '81,  when  there  was  no  campaigning 


84  TROOPEK  ROSS. 

to  speak  of  for  the  old  regiment ;  but  Eod  grieved 
sorely  at  the  idea  of  giving  up  Beppo  for  good 
and  all,  though  he  had  long  since  given  him  up 
as  a  mount  and  taken  to  a  Shoshone  pony.  His 
whole  boy  life,  ever  since  he  could  remember,  had 
been  spent  with  the  army  in  the  West.  He  had 
never  seen  a  locomotive  or  a  train  of  cars  since 
he  was  too  young  to  take  much  note  of  them.  His 
clothes  were  made  for  him  by  the  tailor  of  his 
father's  troop,  and  his  sturdy  boots  and  shoes  came 
by  mail  from  Chicago,  and  didn't  fit  him  or  please 
him  half  as  well  as  did  the  Shoshone  moccasins. 
He  hated  what  he  disdainfully  termed  the  "  boiled 
shirt,"  and  always  wore  soldier  blue  flannel  except 
when  dressed  for  some  special  occasion  in  garrison, 
or  when  fishing,  shooting,  and  exploring  in  the 
mountains,  when  he  preferred  his  hunting-shirt  of 
Indian  tanned  buckskin,  made  for  him  by  the 
squaws  in  old  Chief  Washakie's  lodge. 

He  had  had  few  playmates  in  the  Wind  River 
valley.  The  officers  were  very  few  in  number. 
Their  boys,  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  were  East  at 
school,  and  Buster  was  now  in  his  turn  the  biggest 
boy  at  the  fort.  He  was  too  big,  in  fact,  to  play 
with  young  Sammy  Baker  and  the  doctor's  eldest 
hope,  and  indeed  it  must  be  owned  their  respective 
mammas  did  not  wish  him  to  play  with  them,  for 
Hod  was  fond  of  vigorous  out-door  life  and  was  as 
rough  as  a  bear  cub  in  his  gambols,  and  it  is  a  fact 


TROOPER  ROSS.  85 

that  the  last  summer  he  spent  at  Washakie,  while 
his  father  was  escorting  the  lieutenant-general 
on  the  upper  Yellowstone,  Master  Ross  preferred 
to  associate  with  two  well-grown  scapegraces  of 
Shoshones,  bare-armed,  bare-bodied,  bare-legged, 
who  could  teach  him  no  end  of  things  worth 
knowing  in  the  line  of  trapping,  hunting,  and  fish- 
ing, and  Rod  was  little  better  than  a  savage  him- 
self, but  for  the  gentler  influence  of  his  loving 
mother,  when  Captain  Ross  came  riding  home- 
ward late  in  the  fall,  and,  within  the  week  of  his 
arrival,  applied  for  six  months'  leave,  and  broke  up 
housekeeping  forthwith. 

Now,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  Mrs.  Ross  loved 
that  army  life  far  from  the  comforts  of  civilization. 
She  liked  her  army  friends  and  associations,  and 
she  had  long  since  lost  touch  with  her  own.  She 
had  sisters  two,  and  they  were  both  married  and 
busy  with  their  own  boys  and  girls  and  joys  and 
sorrows,  and  they  had  not  prospered  too  well  in 
the  world,  neither  had  her  husband's  people,  and, 
as  is  not  unusual,  they  often  asked  for  help  from 
the  army  officer,  who,  though  thrifty  and  econom- 
ical, was  in  no  wise  the  wealthy  man  they  said, 
and  anything  but  able  to  support  other  families 
than  his  own,  but  he  had  saved  a  fund  for  Rod's 
education,  and  now  meant  that  the  boy  should 
have  it. 

Quitting   old   Washakie   one    perfect   October 


86  TKOOPER   ROSS. 

morning,  they  bowled  away  over  the  hard,  wind- 
ing road, — all  the  garrison  out  to  see  them  ofF, 
w^itli  Sergeant  O'Toole  riding  alongside  all  the 
way  to  Lander,  and  Kod's  Indian  friends  grinning 
good-by  at  the  agency,  and  that  night  they  slept 
at  Miner's  Delight,  far  up  among  the  bold,  beauti- 
ful heights  that  separate  the  Sweetwater  valley 
from  the  Big  Horn,  and  with  another  day  they 
were  crossing  the  backbone  of  the  continent  and 
diving  down  to  the  Big  Sandy,  and  with  the  third 
they  were  far  to  the  south,  across  the  broad  arid 
desert  plateau,  and  there,  at  Green  River  City, 
Rod's  wondering  eyes  were  fascinated  by  the  great, 
puffing,  grinding,  roaring  engine  and  the  long 
train  of  heavy  express  and  Pullman  cars  that,  just 
at  sundown,  came  rolling  in  from  the  dusky  west. 
That  night,  for  the  first  time  he  could  remember, 
he  slept  in  a  Pullman  car,  and  for  hours  could 
hardly  sleep  at  all. 

True  to  his  old  plan,  Captain  Ross  strove  to  ex- 
plain everything  to  his  boy,  to  teach  him  the  use 
and  meaning  of  everything  he  saw,  and  in  lessons 
of  that  kind  the  youngster  proved  a  ready  jDupil. 
He  looked  with  wonderment  at  the  curving  lines 
of  snow-sheds  as  they  crossed  the  great  ridge  of 
the  Rockies  at  Sherman.  He  looked  in  amaze  at 
what  seemed  to  him  the  colossal  size  of  the  build- 
ingjf  at  Omaha,  and  clung  to  his  father's  side  as 
they  stood  on  the  rear  platform  of  the  train  when 


TROOPER  ROSS.  87 

it  crossed  the  river,  and  was  dizzy  at  the  height 
and  apparent  insecurity  of  the  great  bridge  and 
disgusted  at  the  dirty  look  of  the  huge  volume 
of  water  boiling  and  swirling  and  rolling  away 
far  underneath  their  feet. 

But  Chicago  deafened  and  aj^palled  him.  Never 
had  he  heard  anything  like  the  roar  of  the  streets. 
Never  had  he  seen  anything  like  the  swarms  of 
shouldering,  bustling,  hustling  people.  Never 
had  he  gazed  at  anything  like  the  great  buildings, 
many  of  them  towering  up  towards  the  skies.  It 
made  his  gentle  mother's  headache,  and  but  for 
the  excitement  and  joy  of  shopping  with  certain 
of  her  friends  who  came  to  meet  her  at  the  Leland, 
she  would  have  preferred  remaining  in  her  room 
while  the  captain  took  his  bouncing,  big-eyed  boy 
to  get  him  out  of  his  army-made  clothes  and  into 
something  civilized,  and  Rod's  discomfort  in  a 
sack  suit  with  waistcoat  and  choker  and  a  stiff 
Derby  hat  was  something  almost  pathetic.  "  I've 
got  to  do  the  same.  Rod,  my  boy,"  said  the  captain, 
whimsically,  "  and  I  expect  I'll  look  as  odd  as  you 
feel.  You'll  soon  get  used  to  them,  so  make  the 
best  of  it.  You  can't  wear  buckskin  and  moc- 
casins at  Rockford  Academy.  My  only  fear  is 
they'll  call  you  a  Sioux  as  it  is." 

And  the  captain's  fears  were  well  founded. 
One  week  later,  after  a  brief  sojourn  among  rela- 
tives who  had  well-nigh  forgotten  that  Captain 


88  TROOPER  ROSS. 

Eoss  had  any  children  at  all,  Rod  and  his  mother 
shut  themselves  up  in  her  room  for  one  long  hour, 
and  then  for  the  first  time  the  fond  creature  saw 
her  boy  borne  away,  and  knew  that  there  would 
be  no  good-night  kiss  for  weeks  to  come.  Leaving 
her  with  her  kindred  for  a  few  hours  only,  the 
captain  rode  away  with  Rod,  who,  silent,  plucky, 
but,  oh,  so  mad  to  bury  his  head  somewhere  and 
sob  his  heart  out !  with  trembling,  twitching  lips, 
with  tear-brimming  eyes,  leaned  back  in  the  dark 
corner  of  the  carriage,  hiding  from  sight.  The 
father's  heart  yearned  over  him.  He  longed  to 
draw  him  to  his  side  and  fold  him  to  his  breast 
as  many  a  time  when  a  little  fellow  Rod  had 
nestled  there,  but  he  well  knew  it  would  only 
bring  on  a  flood  of  tears.  They  would  be  at  the 
railway  station  in  a  few  minutes,  and  that  would 
never  do,  so,  forcing  down  his  great  longing  and 
love  and  pity,  the  captain  talked  busily  away,  just 
as  though  he  never  saw  how  Rod  was  grieving ; 
and  little  by  little  the  boy  plucked  up  heart  and 
tried  to  peer  about  him  and  be  interested,  and 
then,  after  a  few  hours'  swift  run  by  rail,  they 
were  landed  at  Rockford  and  whirled  away  over 
a  hard,  country  road  through  the  keen  autumn, 
evening  air,  and  just  before  sundown  they  spun 
along  beside  a  smooth,  green-carpeted  playground 
whereon  a  swarm  of  boys,  big  and  little,  at  whom 
Buster  stared  with  all  his  soul  in  his  eyes,  were 


TROOPER   ROSS.  89 

in  the  midst  of  games  of  every  kind,  and  another 
moment  the  father  and  son  were  in  the  presence 
of  a  gentleman  in  semi-clerical  dress,  a  man  with 
fine  features,  handsome  dark  eyes,  and  a  sympa- 
thetic, earnest  expression, — the  head-master  or 
principal  of  the  Rockford  School. 

"  And  so  this  is  our  young  Shoshone — this  is 
our  Sioux  killer,  is  it  ?"  said  he,  smilingly,  kindly, 
yet  half  anxiously,  as  he  looked  the  boy  carefully 
over.  "  He  is  a  sturdy  fellow  for  his  years,  cap- 
tain. Only  fourteen,  did  you  say  ?  Why,  he  can 
down  some  of  our  First  Latin  already,  I'll  warrant. 
How  is  it,  Rod  ?  Are  you  pretty  good  at  wrest- 
ling?" 

"  I've  wrestled  with  some  Indian  boys — and  a 
bear  cub,"  said  Buster,  blushing,  "but  I  don't 
think  I  know  much  about  it."  So  already  the 
father's  admonitions  were  taking  root.  Brag  was 
to  be  a  thing  of  the  past. 

Presently  a  big  bell  began  to  ring,  and  the  dis- 
tant sound  of  shouting  died  suddenly  away,  and 
looking  from  the  great  latticed  window.  Buster  saw 
the  boys  flocking  in  from  the  playground,  speed- 
ily grouping  under  the  direction  of  certain  young 
men  in  authority  into  sections  and  classes,  divided 
apparently  by  age  and  size.  Many  were  pulling 
on  coats  or  jackets  as  they  came  bounding  from 
the  field.  Many  carried  bats  and  other  parapher- 
nalia of  their  games.     Many  were   still  eagerly 

16* 


90  TROOPER   ROSS. 

chatting,  but  now  in  subdued  tones,  and  so,  with- 
out being  in  any  military  formation,  they  came 
swarming  up  the  broad  roadway,  the  little  fellows 
in  the  lead,  and  in  a  living  and  particularly  human 
stream  swept  on  under  the  window  where,  fasci- 
nated, the  new-comer  stood  watching  them,  igno- 
rant of  the  fact  that  his  father  and  the  doctor  were 
there  at  his  back,  but  by  no  means  unconscious 
of  the  curious,  often  mischievous,  glances  directed 
at  him  by  two-thirds  of  the  youngsters  of  the 
school.  And  so  they  trooped  by,  sixscore  of 
lively  urchins  of  all  ages  from  eighteen  down  to 
eight,  and  disappeared  through  the  broad  portals 
of  a  brick  building  to  the  left  of  the  master's  office ; 
and  then  arose  a  prodigious  clatter  as  bats  and 
balls,  tennis  rackets,  cricket  stumps,  and  "  shinny" 
sticks  were  stored  away  in  an  anteroom,  and  then 
there  was  a  scurrying  of  springy  feet  up  the 
heavily-matted  stairway. 

"They've  gone  to  tidy  up  a  bit,"  said  the 
master.  "Then  we'll  go  in  and  see  them  at 
supper.  First  let  me  have  you  shown  to  your 
room,  captain,  for  you'll  stay  with  us  to-night,  I 
hope." 

"  I  fear  not,  doctor.  This  little  man's  mother 
is  about  to  spend  the  jBrst  night  of  her  boy's  life 
without  having  him  near  her,  at  least  part  of  the 
time.  I  must  be  there  to  tell  her  how  well  he 
started." 


TROOPER   ROSS.  91 

They  went  up  to  the  room  together  all  the  same, 
Rod  and  his  father,  and  there  were  the  boy's  new 
trunk  and  his  few  belongings,  and  there  the  doctor 
presently  joined  them,  bringing  a  gentle-faced, 
motherly-looking  woman,  who  smiled  kindly  at  the 
young  Westerner,  and  was  presented  as  "  Our  ma- 
tron, Mrs.  Lang,  the  besl,  friend  the  boys  have  in  the 
whole  establishment."  And  after  a  little  the  big 
bell  began  to  toll,  and  with  a  prodigious  clatter  of 
feet  through  resounding  corridors  the  boys  came 
tumbling  out  into  the  open  air  again  and  gathered 
about  their  class  officers  and  were  led  away,  so 
many  little  flocks,  each  with  its  own  attendant 
shepherd,  and  the  doctor,  giving  a  hand  to  Rod, 
now  blushing  and  awkward,  and  looking  as 
though  he  would  far  rather  have  clung  to  his 
father's  side,  yet  was  too  brave  to  say  so,  strode 
away  down  the  carpeted  hall,  the  big  cavalry 
officer  on  the  other  side,  and  presently,  opening 
an  oaken  door,  led  his  charge  into  a  great  vaulted 
room  where  were  set  a  dozen  supper-tables,  nearly 
a  dozen  boys  at  each,  and  instantly  the  Babel 
of  tongues  ceased,  and  the  colored  waiters,  scur- 
rying through  with  trays  held  on  high,  stood 
stock-still  in  their  places,  and  sixscore  heads,  big 
and  little,  close  cropped  and  curly,  black  and 
brown  and  flaxen  and  two  or  three  lively  red, 
were  bowed  in  silence;  and  though  some  young 
eyes  peeped  curiously  at  the  new  boy,  there  was 


92  TKOOPER  ROSS. 

decorum  and  reverence  in  manner,  at  least,  as, 
in  deep,  earnest,  manful  tones,  the  doctor  said  a 
simple,  heartfelt  "  grace."  There  was  a  murmured 
"Amen,"  and  then  Babel  burst  forth  again  on 
the  instant,  and  the  waiters  shuffled  with  added 
speed,  and  as  hungry,  healthy,  hearty  a  lot  of 
youngsters  as  ever  was  seen  "fell  to"  at  their 
smoking  suppers. 

"Tell  Betts  to  come  to  me,"  said  the  doctor, 
briefly,  as  he  led  the  way  to  a  table  set  upon  a 
little  dais  farther  up  the  room,  still  holding  Rod- 
erick by  the  hand,  and  there  they  were  presently 
joined  by  a  bright  boy  of  some  thirteen  years. 

"  Betts,"  said  the  doctor,  "  this  is  Ross, — Rod- 
erick Ross,  of  whom  I  told  you  yesterday.  I 
have  an  idea  you  two  can  worry  along  together  as 
peaceably  as  any.  What  say  you,  Ross,  will  you 
take  supper  here  with  us  or  with  Betts  and  the 
boys?" 

And  with  the  eyes  of  the  whole  school  upon 
him,  Trooper  Ross  stepped  from  the  doctor's  plat- 
form and,  making  brave  effort  to  keep  a  stiff  upper 
lip,  followed  his  new  acquaintance  down  between 
the  rows  of  clattering  tables  and  took  his  seat  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life  a  school-boy  at  Rockford 
Hall. 


— *.-l^ 


CHAPTER    VII. 


Most  boys  find  their  first  few  days  at  school 
anything  but  pleasant.  The  masters,  of  course, 
begin  by  being  gentle  and  considerate,  as  though 
making  all  allowance  for  the  new-comers,  but  the 
boys  themselves  are  moved  with  a  spirit  of  mis- 
chief that  nothing  but  the  sturdiest  self-denial 
can  down,  and  even  in  so  well-regulated  an  es- 
tablishment as  Rockford  Hall  there  were  occasions 
and  opportunities  of  which  the  leading  spirits  did 
not  fail  to  take  advantage  in  Roddy's  case.  Betts, 
who  had  been  selected  as  his  companion  and  school 
mentor,  was  a  boy  who  rejoiced  for  just  about 
forty-eight  hours  in  the  importance  of  his  position 
in  the  new-comer's  eyes,  and  by  that  time  Rod 
had  heard  and  learned  all  that  Betts  could  teach 
him  about  the  rules,  written  and  unwritten,  of 
the  school  authorities,  and  was  struggling  with 
far  greater  show  of  interest  to  master  the  unwritten 


94  TKOOPEK  ROSS. 

code  of  ethics  which  governed  the  boys  themselves. 
And  right  here  his  troubles  began.  Homesick, 
mother-sick  as  he  was ;  weighed  down  by  the  over- 
powering sense  of  strangeness  and  constraint  on 
every  side,  hampered  here  and  hindered  there  by  a 
system  of  rules  for  study  and  employment  of  time 
which  his  military  bringing  up  prompted  him  to 
obey  despite  the  fact  that,  through  his  love  of 
open-air  life,  his  whole  nature  rebelled  against. 
Rod  found  himself  like  a  cat  in  a  strange  garret, 
nervous,  anxious,  ever  on  the  lookout  for  some 
sudden  trick  or  ambush,  and  all  the  time  his  boy 
heart  was  yearning  for  the  old  free,  joyous,  buoyant 
days  in  which  he  had  moved  and  had  his  being, 
a  chief  and  a  leader  from  the  time  he  was  ten. 

Oh,  the  misery  of  that  examination  as  to  his 
qualifications  !  the  shame  of  those  unsolved  prob- 
lems in  the  Rule  of  Three  and  Pro^Dortion !  the 
blunders  in  reading  !  the  agony  of  standing  dumb 
and  crestfallen  before  his  j^atient,  helpful  tutor, 
unable  to  answer  questions  in  geography  that 
were  such  old  stories  to  even  the  smallest  boys 
that  they  hugged  themselves  in  ecstasy  over  the 
"  Indian  Killer's"  ignorance  !  Sternly  the  master 
rapped  his  desk  and  called  them  to  order,  and  told 
Phipps,  junior  (who  guffawed  aloud  when  Rod 
said  Cheyenne  was  the  biggest  town  west  of  the 
Missouri,  and  that  Kansas  City  was  the  caj^ital  of 
Kansas),  to  write  him  out  a  page  of  Caesar  before 


TEOOPER  EOSS.  95 

evening  prayers,  and  sent  Potter,  who  couldn't 
repress  his  snickering,  to  report  to  the  head-master 
in  his  study,  but  it  didn't  comfort  E,od.  "  I  fear, 
sir,"  said  the  tutor  to  Dr.  Runyon  that  afternoon, 
"  that  Ross  will  have  to  begin  at  the  bottom.  He 
knows  less  of  books  than  any  boy  of  ten  we  have 
in  the  school."  Poor  Rod  could  have  sat  him 
down  and  written  a  long,  imj^loring  letter  to  his 
father  when,  on  the  following  day,  he  found  him- 
self reciting  with  four  or  five  of  the  urchins  of 
the  school,  who  enjoyed  his  presence  and  predica- 
ment as  much  as  it  distressed  him ;  but  even  here 
his  lack  of  schooling  and  practice  interposed. 
Beyond  half  a  dozen  little  scrawls,  ill-spelled  and 
awkward  and  blotted,  he  had  hardly  written  a 
letter  in  his  life,  and  knew  not  how  to  begin  one 
now.  With  a  lump  in  his  throat  and  hot  tears 
of  mortification  starting  to  his  eyes,  he  sat  on  the 
bench  among  those  little  fellows,  and  even  the  gen- 
tle manners  of  Mr.  West  brought  him  no  comfort. 
"  Don't  let  it  trouble  you,  Ross,"  said  the  tutor, 
kindly,  as  he  called  him  back  at  the  end  of  the 
hour.  "  We'll  get  you  into  the  groove  in  short 
order.  Meantime,  out  there  is  your  field,  I  fancy," 
and  he  pointed  to  the  playground,  now  alive  with 
rushing,  shouting  boys.  "  You'll  be  cock  of  the 
walk  there  before  you're  six  months  older,  and, 
though  I  regret  to  say  it,  that  amounts  to  far  more 
in  boyish  eyes  than  being  head  of  the  school." 


96  TKOOPEE  ROSS. 

So,  let  us  pass  over  the  first  few  weeks  of  the 
sorrows  and  sadness  so  many  of  us — old  boys  and 
young — have  known  when  first  transplanted  from 
the  home  corner  to  the  desk  at  school,  and  push 
ahead  to  the  vigorous  winter  days  that  soon  came 
on,  and  base-ball,  foot-ball,  and  cricket,  the  sports 
in  which  Rod  had  had  no  previous  training,  gave 
way  to  snow-balling  and  skating ;  to  the  days  in 
which  Betts  and  the  small  boys  ceased  to  laugh  at 
"  Shoshonee's"  blunders,  because  he  was  rapidly 
overhauling  them  in  their  elementary  work  and 
ambitiously  reaching  out  for  the  higher  branches ; 
to  the  days  in  which  the  big  boys,  who  at  first 
had  bullied  and  still  strove  to  patronize  him,  were 
sure  to  take  the  Sioux  Killer  among  the  very  first 
when  choosing  sides  for  a  snow-fight,  for  he  could 
throw  a  ball  like  a  short-stop,  and,  when  it  came 
to  a  rush,  was  lengths  ahead  of  the  leaders.  "  A 
boy  that  had  fought  Indians  with  real  bullets 
wasn't  to  be  stopped  by  snow-balls,"  said  they. 
No  one  knew  but  Rod  himself  the  misery  of  his 
first  ten  days  at  Rockford  Hall,  because  his  two 
tear-stained  missives  to  his  mother  were  very 
brief  and  very  brave.  "  It's  going  to  be  a  hard 
fight  for  a  fortnight,  my  boy,"  said  the  captain, 
as  he  strained  him  to  his  heart  one  minute  before 
he  left  him,  "  but  I  want  you  to  remember  your 
soldier  -days  and  say  nothing  at  all  about  it  to 
vour  mother.     If  it's  too  hard,  tell  me  and  I'll 


TROOPER  ROSS.  97 

come.  Otherwise  I  think  it  best  for  all  of  us 
that  we  keep  apart  until  Christmas." 

And  so  not  until  the  holidays  did  he  look 
again  upon  his  mother's  face  or  feel  his  father's 
clasping  hand,  and  by  that  time  Rod  was  himself 
again,  had  played  with  the  crack  team  of  "our 
school"  against  that  of  the  Kiverview  Academy 
at  ice  polo  (we  used  to  call  that ''  shinny,"  or,  when 
very  elegant,  "  hockey,"  in  our  days),  and  he  was 
full  of  pride  and  enthusiasm  in  "  our  fellows"  and 
of  contempt  for  the  Kiverviews,  and  could  brag 
by  the  hour  of  the  pluck  and  prowess  of  Curran 
and  Hammond  and  Big  Bob  Berryman  of  the 
"  First  Latin,"  who  were  preparing  for  college 
and  were  the  bully  players  in  every  game  and  had 
taken  him  into  fellowship  despite  the  fact  that  he 
was  two  years  their  junior  in  age  and  immeasurably 
their  inferior  in  schooling.  They  were  in  Virgil 
and  Sallust  and  Xenophon  and  Geometry.  Rod, 
alas !  was  still  battling  with  the  Rule  of  Three  and 
Proportion,  but  making  giant  strides  in  other 
branches.  "Somehow  or  other  I  hate  figures," 
he  said,  and  while  his  gentle,  indulgent  mother 
condoled  and  comforted  and  said  all  would  come 
right,  his  father  looked  grave  and  disappointed. 
He  had  long  had  visions  of  West  Point  for  his 
boy,  and  there  no  boy  might  hope  to  live  without 
he  could  master  mathematics. 

But  what  secretly  wounded  the  mother's  gentle 


98  TKOOPEK  BOSS. 

heart  and  surprised  the  boy  himself  was  that 
after  the  first  few  days  of  his  visit  to  the  home 
folks,  still  on  their  leave  of  absence  East,  Kod 
began  to  show  impatience  to  get  back  to  school. 
For  the  first  time  in  his  life  the  sturdy  youngster 
had  found  himself  among  his  fellows,  boys  of  his 
own  age.  They  had  twitted  him  upon  his  clothes, 
derided  his  far  Western  ignorance  of  everything 
in  their  more  civilized  circle,  and  jeered  his 
blunders,  yet  found  themselves  fascinated  by 
what  they  learned  from  him  of  frontier  life,  the 
mountains,  the  streams,  the  great  game,  the  scout, 
the  trail,  and  the  war-path,  and  even  those  who 
would  have  held  him  a  butt  for  ridicule  and 
laughter,  because  of  his  awkwardly  worn  "  store 
clothes"  and  his  utter  ignorance  of  school  ethics 
and  traditions,  secretly  envied  his  experiences 
and  the  adulation  which  was  speedily  accorded 
him  among  the  smaller  boys.  Studying  and  re- 
citing with  these  latter,  he  had  quickly  become 
their  leader  and  presently  their  champion,  for, 
despite  the  vigilance  of  tutors,  there  were  times 
when  the  older  boys  tyrannized  over  the  juniors, 
not  infrequently  "  taking  advantage  of  a  fellow's 
size"  to  cuff  and  maltreat  such  as  had  spunk 
enough  to  resist  and  "  talk  back."  Only  a  day  or 
two  before  the  break-up  for  vacation  "  Shoshonee" 
Koss  had  interposed  when  Bill  Forrester  was 
kicking  little  Gibbs  for  some  alleged  piece  of 


TROOPER  ROSS.  99 

boyish  impudence,  and  a  very  stirring  scene  en- 
sued right  then  and  there, — a  moment  of  mad 
and  breathless  excitement  to  the  youngsters  and 
of  boiling  wrath  to  Forrester  and  his  cronies. 
"You'll  pay  for  this,  you  Indian  thief!"  was 
Forrester's  furious  cry,  as,  picking  himself  up 
from  under  the  table  where  he  had  been  tripped 
and  thrown  in  the  first  clinch,  he  shook  his  fist  in 
Kod's  face.  "  Just  you  wait  till  holidays  are  over, 
and  you'll  see !"  And  Eod,  panting  a  little,  but 
with  eyes  ablaze  and  fists  firmly  clinched,  had 
said  he  reckoned  he  would,  and  he  didn't  care  to 
postpone  matters  even  that  long.  Why  not  settle 
it  now  ? 

There  were  reasons  against  that,  however,  with 
so  many  school  oflicials  close  at  hand  and  "no 
place  handy."  There  had  never  been  any  square 
fighting  at  Rockford,  though  many  a  small  boy 
had  been  mercilessly  punched  by  many  a  bigger, 
and  this  revolt  in  behalf  of  "  the  kids"  on  part 
of  the  Sioux  Killer  came  like  a  thunder-clap. 
There  was  neither  time  nor  place  to  settle  it  then, 
as  Forrester  and  his  set  asserted,  but  there  was  to 
be  a  lesson  for  Koss  when  the  new  term  began, 
and  they  meant  what  they  said. 

Now,  like  all  boys  at  all  schools,  they  had  at 
Rockford,  as  has  been  said,  their  unwritten  code 
of  school-boy  ethics,  and  like  most  boys  at  most 
schools,  their  code  was  devised  by  the  elder  boys, 


100  TKOOPER  ROSS. 

and  intended  mainly  for  the  guidance  and  gov- 
ernment of  the  younger.  Its  cardinal  principle 
seemed  to  be  "  Don't  peach,"  or,  as  they  more 
magniloquently  expressed  it  when  trying  to  be 
particularly  impressive,  "  Never  tell  on  a  fellow- 
student  ;  that's  the  meanest  thing  a  boy  can  do." 
No  matter  then  Avhat  the  old  boy — the  big  boy 
— might  do  to  the  little  fellow,  it  was  cowardly  and 
Mumanly  to  complain.  A  big  boy  might  steal  a 
little  fellow's  apples,  break  his  pet  racket,  ink  his 
face  or  his  clothes,  cuff,  kick,  or  abuse  him,  douse 
cold  water  over  his  bed  in  the  dead  hours  of  the 
night,  tease,  terrify,  and  torment, — all  this  and 
much  more,  said  the  big  boys  (some  of  them,  at 
least),  a  big  boy  might  do  to  the  helpless  little 
fellow  who  couldn't  resent  or  retaliate,  and  there 
was  nothing  about  it  either  cowardly  or  mean. 
But  if  a  tutor  happened  in  just  in  time  to  appre- 
hend the  result  and  not  the  offender, — to  find  some 
little  fellow  writhing  in  pain  or  crying  in  wrath 
and  excitement  and  sense  of  wrong,  or  drenched 
and  shivering  from  recent  ducking,  and  if  the 
tutor  then  demanded  the  name  of  the  big  boy  at 
fault,  then,  then  was  the  little  victim  a  trump  if 
he  wouldn't  tell,  or  a  disgrace  and  discredit  to  his 
school  and  schoolmates  if  he  did.  It  takes  a  fel- 
low with  even  less  than  half  an  idea  in  his  head 
to  see  that  such  a  code  as  that  was  devised  solely 
in  the  interest  of  the  worst  element  among  the 


TKOOPEE  EOSS.  101 

boys.  Yet,  so  oddlj  are  we  constituted,  boys  and 
men  both,  that  that  is  the  class  we  are  apt  to  pro- 
tect and  foster  rather  than  be  guilty  of  telling 
tales  in  or  out  of  school.  Now,  nobody  had  tried 
any  personal  indignity  at  Rod's  expense  since  his 
first  week  at  Rockford,  when  Jack  Hammond 
mashed  his  hat  down  over  his  eyes  as  they  came 
out  from  prayers,  and  Rod,  whirling  with  a  mili- 
tary about  face,  sent  his  own  hat  spinning  with  a 
swing  of  his  left  hand  and  smashed  Jack  Ham- 
mond's with  a  blow  of  his  right.  Hammond  was 
dazed  by  the  force  of  it  and  didn't  care  to  pursue 
matters  further,  but  Hammond  was  a  thoroughly 
good-hearted  fellow,  and  mischief,  not  malice,  had 
prompted  his  act.  Rod's  prowess  in  running, 
vaulting,  and  the  way  he  took  to  base-ball  and 
tennis  speedily  won  his  admiration. 

"Take  my  advice  and  don't  monkey  with 
Shoshonee,"  he  said  to  his  fellows,  and  "  monkey" 
they  didn't.  Within  two  months  of  his  coming 
among  them  Rod  was  looked  upon  as  an  equal — 
indeed,  as  a  valuable  acquisition — by  the  leaders 
in  all  the  sports  and  games,  and  his  action,  there- 
fore, in  flooring  Forrester  and  boldly  declaring  in 
favor  of  small-boy  rights  was  something  the  school 
had  never  expected  for  an  instant.  The  boys,  big 
and  little,  were  too  amazed  to  decide  on  the  line 
of  policy  to  be  adopted.  The  matter  was  still 
unsettled  as  they  scattered  for  the  holidays. 

9* 


102  TROOPER  ROSS. 

"Just  you  wait  till  next  term,"  as  Forrester 
furiously  cried,  "  then  you'll  see  !" 

And  next  term  came  in  due  time,  and  with  it 
the  Sioux  Killer's  first  experience  with  the  civil- 
ized savage. 

"  I've  got  it  in  for  you,  my  buck,"  said  Forrester, 
with  a  malignant  scowl,  the  very  evening  of  the 
reopening,  as  the  boys  were  shouting  their  vaca- 
tion experiences  to  one  another,  just  after  supper. 
"  You'll  wish  you  were  back  among  your  Indian 
friends  before  I  get  through  with  you,"  and  the 
young  fellow  looked  fully  capable  of  carrying  out 
a  revengeful  scheme  of  any  kind.  He  was  more 
than  two  years  older  than  Rod,  one  of  the  oldest 
boys  in  school,  and  about  his  size  and  weight,  but, 
as  the  youngsters  gleefully  declared,  "  Koss  could 
lick  him  with  one  hand."  Yet  Forrester  had 
quite  a  following  among  certain  of  the  boys.  His 
parents  were  wealthy  and  indulgent.  He  had 
pocket-money  in  abundance  and  in  defiance  of 
the  rules  of  the  school.  He  was  a  smuggler  as 
well  as  a  smoker  of  cigarettes  and  a  bad  example 
to  the  little  fellows  at  their  most  impressionable 
age.  Either  in  wrestling  or  sparring  or  an  old- 
fashioned  rough-and-tumble  fight  he  would  have 
been  no  match  whatever  for  Roderick,  not  for  lack 
of  science  or  strength,  for  he  had  been  gymnasium 
trained,  which  Rod  had  not,  but  because  he  had 
weakened  his  heart  by  the  use  of  the  narcotics  so 


TEOOPER  ROSS.  103 

frequently  hidden  in  the  cigarettes  which  he  had 
been  smoking  ever  since  his  twelfth  year.  But 
Forrester  had  no  idea  whatever  of  having  a  square 
tussle  with  Ross,  despite  all  his  loud  talk  about 
what  he'd  do  if  it  wasn't  for  the  tutor.  He  had 
formed  a  totally  different  plan. 

A  week  went  by  without  especial  event.  The 
boys  were  getting  shaken  down  to  their  studies 
again,  and  Ross,  to  his  speechless  comfort,  had 
been  moved  up  a  peg  because  of  the  marked  im- 
provement in  his  writing  and  simpler  studies. 
The  bitter  weather  of  late  January  was  upon 
them.  The  ice  on  the  lake  was  superb,  and  the 
hardy  boys  were  out  every  afternoon  whacking 
the  ball  with  their  sticks  and  spinning  and  shout- 
ing over  the  glassy  surface  and  coming  in  to  supper 
all  aglow  with  health  and  exercise.  Rod  never 
missed  it,  but  Forrester  and  his  set  had  been 
keeping  in-doors.  It  was  "  too  blamed  cold"  for 
them,  said  they,  and  therefore  there  was  surprise 
on  many  faces  when,  on  a  biting  January  evening, 
just  after  sundown,  and  perhaps  quarter  of  an 
hour  before  the  big  bell  would  boom  for  supper 
and  the  preliminary  tidying  up,  Forrester  and 
two  of  his  clique  came  shuffling  out  on  the  ice. 
Mr.  Weld,  one  of  the  tutors,  who  dearly  loved 
the  game,  was  in  charge  of  the  players  that  after- 
noon, and  he  too  remembered  later  his  surprise 
at  seeing  them  appear.     They  were  muffled  up  in 


104  TROOPER  ROSS. 

heavy  overcoats,  fur  caps,  and  wore  arctics  on 
their  feet,  while  the  players  had  long  since  dis- 
carded everything  of  the  kind  and  were  in  a  glow 
notw  ithstanding. 

"  Keep  away  from  that  gang,  Koss,"  muttered 
Jack  Hammond,  a  moment  after  their  appearance. 
*'  It'll  soon  be  dark,  and  Weld's  so  near-sighted  he 
can't  see  beyond  the  end  of  his  nose.  They've 
got  some  mean  trick  in  the  wind  and  I  know  it." 

Rod  laughed  as  he  grabbed  his  stick  the  tighter 
and  tossed  back  his  curly  head,  while  his  clear, 
brave  eyes  flashed  half-merry,  half-contemptuous 
challenge,  as  he  glanced  at  the  trio  huddling  at 
the  edge  of  the  long  rectangle.  He  felt  so  secure 
in  his  strength  and  glorious  health,  his  quickness 
and  agility.  How  could  they  harm  him  ?  What 
could  they  do?  he  asked.  There  was  mighty 
little  time,  and  then  came  the  yell,  "  Look  out  for 
goal !"  and,  whizzing,  spinning,  skijDping  along, 
with  a  rush  of  players  in  its  wake,  the  wooden 
ball  came  whirling  down  the  glassy  surface,  and 
with  three  vigorous,  lunging  strokes  of  his  skate- 
blades,  Hammond  shot  under  way  to  meet  it,  and 
Rod  circled  warily  back,  his  eye  on  the  ball,  and, 
bending  low,  he  cruised  up  and  down,  forward 
and  back,  in  front  of  the  goal-posts,  ready  and 
alert  should  the  bounding  sphere  burst  through 
the  defence  line  and  come  zipping  down  to  his 
guarded  land. 


TKOOPER  EOSS.  105 

Just  a  little  behind  him  now,  already  dark  and 
dim  in  the  gathering  dusk,  were  the  goal-posts, 
and  just  a  few  yards  beyond  them,  full  ten  feet 
wide,  black  and  forbidding,  the  boiling,  bubbling, 
swirling  waters  that  came  tumbling  out  from  the 
sluice-gate  of  the  mill-race.  Those  turbulent 
waters  never  froze.  Even  as  he  watched  the 
exciting  course  of  the  game  as  it  swerved  to  and 
fro  across  the  jDond,  the  shadowy  forms  of  the 
players  sometimes  huddled  in  a  surging  mass, 
sometimes  careering  wildly  over  the  ice,  Rod 
could  not  but  see  that  Forrester  and  his  two 
cronies,  as  though  carried  away  by  their  interest 
in  the  contest,  had  encroached  on  the  space  re- 
served for  participants  and  were  edging  off  towards 
the  north  goal,  and  just  then  the  ball  had  broken 
away  from  the  scrimmage  and,  no  longer  visible 
to  Bod,  had  evidently  taken  a  shoot  in  his  direc- 
tion, for  Hammond,  playing  well  back  between 
the  fighting  line  and  the  goal,  whirled  sharply  to 
his  right  and  went  with  a  rush  across  the  dark 
stretch,  a  clamoring  crowd  bearing  down  on  him 
from  the  front,  but  too  far  away  to  "  rattle  him," 
for  in  another  second  Rod  heard  the  resounding 
whack  of  his  stick  as  it  squarely  struck  the  ball, 
heard  his  triumphant  shout  and  Weld's  loud 
"  Bravo !"  heard  the  keen  scrape  and  shave  of 
the  skates  as,  like  a  flock  of  dusky  brant,  the  rush 
of  the  players  veered,  wheeled,  and  spun  around^ 


106  TKOOPER  EOSS. 

and  within  anotlier  second  or  two  had  strung  out 
on  a  new  course  straight  for  the  southward  goal. 
Jack's  magnificent  stroke  had  sent  the  ball  far 
beyond  leaders,  lungers,  and  "backs,"  and  into 
the  goal-keeper's  hands.  Now  was  Rod's  time. 
He  knew  Willard  well,  the  safest,  surest  home 
guard  in  the  school,  if  he.  Rod  Ross,  the  Sioux 
killer  and  nearest  rival,  had  to  own  it.  Cool  and 
imperturbable  as  Crab  Jones,  of  blessed  memory, 
Willard  would  mark  its  coming,  and  with  a 
counter-stroke,  firm  as  Hammond's,  send  it  far, 
far  back  into  the  northland,  and  then  would  come 
Rod's  opportunity.  He  could  now  afford  to  play 
forward  twenty  or  thirty  yards  to  meet  it.  Even 
if  he  could  not  fairly  see,  he  could  hear  it  whizzing 
on  its  way.  And,  just  as  the  dim,  spectral  shapes 
at  the  other  end  of  the  rectangle  seemed  huddling 
all  in  a  bunch  again,  and,  all  eagerness  and  ex- 
citement, he  was  just  striking  out  to  take  ground 
farther  to  his  front,  something  came  settling  down 
over  his  shoulders,  something  suddenly  gripped 
and  tightened  about  his  legs,  something  suddenly 
jerked  them  from  under  him,  and  the  next  thing 
he  knew,  hurled  violently  forward  on  his  face,  he 
was  slipping,  sliding  over  the  ice,  half  stunned 
by  the  force  of  his  fall,  yet  clutching  fiercely 
though  vainly  at  every  little  projection  on  his 
way.  Almost  before  he  could  realize  it,  he  went 
whizzing  beyond  the  goal-post,  and  then,  merciful 


''-mi 

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vj 

lMm.^.,m  m    '    "\ 

1 

< 

The  next  thinsr  he  knew  he  had  shot  over  the  crackin<r  edire. 


TKOOPER  EOSS.  107 

heaven !  not  before  he  fully  realized  it,  he  found 
himself  helplessly,  swiftly  gliding  over  the  glassy 
ice,  with  those  black,  tumbling,  seething  waters 
just  ahead,  and  the  next  thing  he  knew  he  had 
shot  over  the  cracking  edge,  and,  drowning  his 
cry  for  help,  the  icy  waves  had  closed  over  his 
head.  A  mocking,  jeering  laugh  was  the  last 
thing  he  heard  before  his  ears  were  closed,  min- 
gling with  the  boom  of  the  big  school-house  bell 
summoning  all  hands  to  supper. 

Two  days  later  the  faculty  of  Rockford  Hall 
was  assembled  in  conference,  and  knots  of  school- 
boys, whispering  excitedly,  were  clustered  about 
the  corridors.  Up  in  the  matron's  cheery  room, 
propped  on  his  pillows  and  looking  as  though  he 
had  been  pulled  through  a  knot-hole,  and  yet  not 
altogether  unhappy,  Hod  Ross  lay  chatting  in 
low  tone  with  Hammond  and  Willard.  The  doc- 
tor with  the  head-master  had  left  his  bedside  but 
a  few  minutes  before,  and  each  had  striven  to  get 
the  boy  to  answer  certain  questions,  all  to  no 
effect. 

"  I  never  saw  any  one  nearer  to  me  than  the 
east  edge  of  the  rectangle,"  was  his  sole  reply  to 
their  appeal. 

"  He  would  not  peach,"  whispered  boys,  big  and 
little,  in  the  thrill  of  their  admiration.  He  would 
not  accuse  those  who  had  all  but  murdered  him. 


108  TROOPEK  ROSS. 

"  Shoshonee"  liad  been  rescued  only  in  the  nick 
of  time,  and  only  after  long,  long  effort  liad  he 
been  revived. 

Jack  Hammond  best  could  tell  the  story,  and 
we'll  let  him  do  it.  "  I  knew  Willard  would 
swipe  that  ball  to  Kingdom  Come  if  he  got  half 
a  chance,"  said  he.  "I  had  hoped  to  send  it 
more  to  the  left  where  Berryman  could  reach  and 
drive  it,  but  the  moment  I  saw  how  it  was  going 
I  hauled  up  and  waited  for  it  to  come  back.  It 
came  with  a  rush,  even  before  I  could  turn  to 
head  it,  and  was  away  down  half-way  to  the  sluice- 
gate before  I  could  fairly  see  it.  I  yelled  for 
'Shoney  and  lit  out  after  it,  and  was  utterly  sur- 
prised at  not  seeing  him  near  the  goal.  Two  or 
three  fellows  were  scurrying  off  towards  school  as 
I  raced,  and  then  I  remembered  what  I  had  told 
Ross, — that  those  fellows  were  out  to  do  him  a 
dirty  trick  of  some  kind,  and  my  first  thought 
was  that  they'd  tried  it  and  that  he'd  sailed  into 
them  with  his  stick  and  was  chasing  them  off  the 
pond ;  so  I  went  for  the  ball,  found  it  clear  up  by 
the  water-hole,  and  drove  it  back  just  for  the  fun 
of  hitting  it  again,  though  the  game  was  over  and 
the  bell  a-banging,  and  then,  close  to  the  hole,  as 
I  sat  down  to  take  off  my  skates,  I  heard  some- 
thing whirling  over  the  ice,  and  there,  right  be- 
side me,  like  a  big  water-snake,  something  was 
squirming  and  twisting  away  towards  the  hole, 


TROOPEE   EOSS.  109 

with  the  tail  of  it  flapping  behind.  I  swear  it 
startled  me  a  second,  and  then  I  saw  it  was  just 
the  end  of  a  clothes-line,  and  I  had  sense  enough 
to  grab  it,  strength  enough  to  hang  on,  and  then 
yell  for  help.  Something  heavy,  something  human, 
was  struggling  at  the  other  end,  far  under  the  ice, 
and  something  told  me  it  was  Shoshonee.  You 
know  the  rest.  It  took  four  of  us  to  pull  him 
back  and  half  a  dozen  to  get  him  out,  with  the 
rope  still  slip-knotted  around  his  shins." 

But  if  Rod  wouldn't  peach  and  Forrester  dare 
not  confess,  there  was  one  miserable  sinner  who 
couldn't  stand  the  pressure  and  who  presently 
told  all.  They  only  meant  to  give  Ross  a  cold 
ducking.  They  never  thought  how  the  current 
might  carry  him  along  under  the  ice,  since  with 
pinioned  legs  he  couldn't  swim.  They  were 
horror-stricken  when  a  messenger  came  running 
up  for  help,  saying  Ross  was  drowned.  They 
were  full  of  misery  and  remorse  and  begged  to 
be  forgiven,  but  the  faculty  would  have  no  more 
of  them.  Forrester  and  his  pals  went  homeward 
that  night, — expelled  from  Rockford  Hall. 


10 


CHAPTER   VIII. 


We  have  to  pass  rapidly  over  Rod's  school 
days,  for  they  were  mainly  uneventful.  Not 
until  later  did  the  real  battle  of  his  young  man- 
hood meet  him.  Life  was  not  without  its  joys 
meantime,  and,  after  a  glorious  summer  vacation 
in  the  Wind  River  Mountains,  with  Jack  Ham- 
mond for  his  guest  and  comjianion,  after  a  month 
of  hunting,  fishing,  and  a  trip  in  saddle  past  the 
Three  Tetons  and  up  to  the  wonderful  Yellow- 
stone Park,  Rod  Ross  went  back  to  Rockford  the 
first  of  September,  ready  for  another  long  year  at 
the  books.  But  that  brief  sojourn  at  an  army 
post  had  "done  the  business"  for  Hammond. 
"I'm  seventeen  now,"  he  wrote  to  his  father, 
"  and  I've  seen  what  I  wish  to  be,  and  that  is  a 
cavalry  officer.  Tell  Uncle  Jared  that  the  next 
vacancy  that  occurs  in  our  district  finds  me  beg- 
ging for  the  place.  I'll  try  a  competitive  exam- 
ination with  any  fellow  he  chooses  to  name." 

110 


TROOPER  ROSS.  Ill 

And  Hammond  had  reason  to  feel  confident. 
He  was  Rockford's  prize  scholar  in  mathematics 
and  had  not  an  equal  at  his  home.  "Uncle 
Jared"  had  been  for  six  years  representative  of 
the  district  in  Congress,  and  his  reply  was  not 
encouraging.  "  I've  about  concluded,"  wrote  he, 
"that  nobody  can  get  through  West  Point  but 
the  sons  of  army  officers.  They  keep  it  up  for 
their  benefit,  and  lots  of  my  associates  here  in  the 
House  think  so,  too.  The  examinations  are  too 
hard.  I've  appointed  four  bright  boys  one  year 
after  another,  and  they've  sent  'em  all  back,  and 

Mr. ,  of  Indiana,  has  had  seven  turned  out, 

and  we're  getting  hot  about  it.  Still,  if  Jack 
wishes  to  try  his  luck,  let  him  come  and  be  ex- 
amined, and  if  he  wins  he  can  enter  next  June," 

Rod's  heart  throbbed  with  mingled  rejoicing, 
envy,  and  regret, — rejoicing  for  his  friend's  sake, 
envy  that  he  strove  to  crush,  because,  all  the 
Honorable  Mr.  Hammond's  theories  to  the  con- 
trary notwithstanding,  he  knew  that  precious  few 
army  officers  succeeded  in  getting  appointments 
for  their  boys  at  all,  and,  even  when  they  did,  it 
was  often  developed  that  early  education  had  been 
neglected  and  the  youngsters  fell  before  that  great 
leveller  of  military  ambition,  the  .department  of 
mathematics.  With  remorseless  impartiality  it 
performed  its  work,  knowing  no  man's  son  from 
another's  except  by  his  proficiency  or  deficiency 


112  TROOPEE  ROSS. 

in  this  vital  science,  and  poor  Rod,  bending  with 
new  determination  to  his  work,  none  the  less  felt 
his  heart  failing  him  as  he  realized,  day  after  day, 
that  examples  and  problems  that  were  all  so  clearly, 
cleverly  solved  and  explained  by  Jack  were  only 
darkness  and  drudgery  to  him.  Jack  went  home 
to  the  competitive  examination  and  came  back 
an  easy  winner,  the  proud  possessor,  presently, 
of  a  document  at  which  the  other  boys  gazed  in 
awe  and  admiration, — an  order  requiring  him  in 
the  name  of  the  President  and  Secretary  of  War 
to  report  on  the  12th  of  June  next  to  the  Super- 
intendent of  the  United  States  Military  Academy 
at  West  Point.  Already  Rockford  Hall  in  fancy 
beheld  in  Jack  a  plumed  and  sword-brandishing 
officer.  Already  Jack  assumed  what  he  con- 
ceived to  be  a  martially  erect  carriage,  and  was 
only  undeceived  when  Rod  laughingly  told  him 
that  it  wasn't  the  abdomen  but  the  chest  that 
should  protrude,  that  his  back  should  be  straight, 
not  concave,  that  he  should  not  lean  backward 
with  his  weight  on  his  heels,  but  forward,  rather, 
on  the  balls  of  the  feet;  and  that  winter  while 
Jack  was  patiently  and  affectionately  doing  his 
best  to  coach  Rod  in  arithmetic  and  elementary 
algebra.  Rod  began  giving  Jack  brisk  half-hours 
of  "  setting  up  exercises"  and  lessons  in  the  school 
of  the  soldier.  Like  all  boys,  Jack  thought  he 
ought  to  have  a  musket  and  begin  with  the  manual 


TKOOPER  EOSS.  113 

of  arms,  but  Rod,  better  taught,  succeeded  in  per- 
suading him  that  exactly  the  opposite  was  the 
proper  course, — that  he  must  acquire  the  soldierly 
carriage  and  develop  and  harden  the  necessary 
muscles  before  trying  to  handle  the  eight  pounds 
of  wood  and  metal  that  go  to  make  up  the  military 
rifle.  Dr.  Runyon  took  immense  interest  in  the 
drill  half-hours,  and  other  boys  begged  to  join  the 
squad  and  started  enthusiastically,  but  fell  out, 
all  but  two  or  three,  after  the  first  few  days.  No 
boy  need  hope  or  expect  to  become  a  well-drilled, 
well  "set  up"  soldier  unless  he  has  pluck  and 
determination  strong  enough  to  triumph  over  many 
a  muscular  ache,  pain,  and  weariness.  And  so 
Shoshonee,  though  nearly  at  the  foot  of  his  class 
in  algebra,  and  only  moderately  well  up  in  other 
branches,  was  becoming  a  centre  of  interest  and 
influence  in  the  boy  community,  as  he  was  already 
among  the  foremost  players  in  all  out-door  sports 
and  recreations.  His  letters  were  more  buoyant 
and  hopeful  now.  "  I  still  flnd  algebra  a  mys- 
tery," he  wrote  to  his  father,  "  in  spite  of  all  that 
Jack  does  to  help  me,  but  I  am  well  and  strong 
and  get  along  first-rate  in  other  studies  and  in  all 
our  games.  I'm  in  the  cricket  eleven  and  play 
substitute  in  the  first  nine  at  base-ball  and  will 
take  Jack's  place  at  second  base  when  he  goes, 
Berryman  has  promised  me,  and  if  we  only  had 
riding  I  think  I  could  show  them  all  a  trick  or  two. 

h  10* 


114  TROOPER  ROSS 

"  But  scliool  will  be  mighty  different  when  Jack 
goes.  We're  going,  perhaps,  to  have  two  repre- 
sentatives at  the  Point  in  June.  Ed.  Mowbray's 
father  represents  this  district  (the  5th), — Jack's 
uncle  has  the  8th, — and  he  gave  the  appointment 
to  him,  although  he  didn't  much  care  for  it  at 
first,  but  now  Ed  thinks  he  does  just  because 
Jack's  going.  I  wish  Ed's  father  might  take  a 
fancy  to  me,  for,  between  you  and  me,  I  don't 
think  Ed  can  pass.  Jack  gave  him  some  of  the 
sample  problems  and  he  said  he  worked  out  most 
of  'em,  but  Hilliard  swears  he  got  help,  and  I 
guess  it's  true.  I  might  fail,  too,  father,  and  yet 
I'd  work  my  eyes  out  if  they  could  only  pull  me 
through.  Confound  Calculus  and  such  things! 
What  does  a  cavalry  officer  need  of  them  ?  You 
don't  know  anything  about  them,  and  yet  every- 
body says  there's  no  better  officer  in  the  regiment, 
and  to  my  thinking  no  better  in  the  whole  ten  of 
them.  Don't  suppose  I'm  going  to  be  miserable 
if  I  can't  get  to  the  Point.  I'll  come  back  to 
Washakie  one  of  these  days  and  start  a  ranch  on 
the  Little  Wind  Eiver  or  up  the  Popo  Agie  and 
have  a  home  all  ready  for  you  and  mother  when 
you  retire.  But  all  the  same  I  do  want  to  be  a 
soldier,  a  trooper,  more  than  words  can  tell." 

And  over  this  letter  the  father  pondered  long 
and  earnestly. 

But  then  came  the  spring-tide  and   the   soft, 


TROOPER  ROSS.  115 

languorous  mornings,  and  presently  the  long  after- 
noons, with  nearly  two  hours  after  school  to  give 
to  practice  on  the  diamond,  and  Rockford  Hall 
was  worked  up  to  a  pitch  of  excitement  and  en- 
thusiasm over  the  challenge  match  to  be  played 
commencement  week  with  the  crack  nine  of  Ur- 
bana  College,  where  they  had  two  hundred  stu- 
dents to  choose  from,  many  of  them  well-grown 
young  fellows  of  twenty  and  twenty-one,  while 
Bob  Berryman,  captain  of  the  Rockford  nine, 
was  barely  eighteen  and  the  oldest  boy  in  the  lot. 
It  all  grew  out  of  a  game  played  on  the  fair 
grounds  in  the  fall,  in  which  the  college  boys, 
sure  of  victory,  and,  as  they  said,  "  not  wishing 
to  beat  the  infants  too  badly,"  had  put  in  some 
of  their  second-rate  players,  and,  to  their  utter 
amaze,  were  beaten  eleven  to  six.  There  was  so 
much  laughter  and  ridicule  as  a  result  that  Ur- 
bana  felt  that  nothing  but  an  overwhelming  de- 
feat of  the  Bockford  boys  could  atone  for  it,  and 
the  challenge  was  the  result.  School-boys  who 
have  searched  their  histories  will  remember  how 
the  night  before  Hastings  the  Normans  busily 
polished  their  arms  and  devoutly  prayed  and 
prepared  themselves  for  the  coming  battle,  while 
the  Saxon  followers  of  Harold,  in  boisterous  con- 
fidence, drank  confusion  to  their  enemies  and  spent 
their  night  in  carousal.  Somewhat  in  like  man- 
ner the  Rockford  boys,  day  after  day,  spent  their 


116  TKOOPEK  EOSS. 

recreation  hours  in  assiduous  practice,  coaclied  by 
a  veteran  of  the  League,  once  a  star  pitcher,  while 
the  collegians  took  things  easily,  serenely  confi- 
dent that  all  they  had  to  do  was  put  in  their  great 
first  nine  with  Clem  and  Goddard  "  in  the  points," 
— Clem,  of  whom  the  big-eyed  boys  declared  his 
curves  had  bafiled  Pop  Anson  himself  when  he 
was  there  looking  for  players ;  Clem,  who  struck 
out  six  men  in  the  game  with  the  famous  Fort 
Waynes,  and  Goddard,  who  was  said  to  have  been 
ofiered  such  a  big  salary  to  catch  for  the  White 
Stockings  next  season,  only  his  family  wouldn't 
let  him.  Before  such  a  battery  the  Rockford 
*Kids"  would  be  shut  out  without  a  run.  No 
wonder  the  excitement  was  high.  Rockford  had 
beaten  every  boy  club  of  consequence  in  the  State, 
but  now  they  were  tackling  men.  For  weeks  the 
home  letters  were  full  of  that  forthcoming  match. 
Examinations,  study,  commencement  exercises, 
speeches,  honors,  the  dance  for  the  graduating 
class,  even  the  coming  of  sisters  and  sweethearts, 
paled  in  imj)ortance  by  comparison,  and  as  this 
is  the  boys'  story,  let  us  follow  their  bent,  for 
until  that  game  was  played  and  the  thing  settled 
nothing  else  was  to  be  thought  of. 

Jack  Hammond  left  the  first  of  June  to  spend 
a  week  with  a  veteran  officer  near  the  Point  who 
eked  out  his  retired  pay  by  coaching  candidates 
for  their  examination.     "  Remember,"  he  said,  as 


TEOOPEK  BOSS.  117 

he  wrung  Rod's  hand,  "you're  to  wire  me  the 
score  the  moment  it's  settled,  and  remember  what 
I  say, — play  well  out  when  Leggett  and  Powell 
come  to  bat ;  they're  the  only  left-handers  they've 
got."  For  three  weeks  Shoshonee  had  been  prac- 
tised regularly  at  second.  He  was  particularly 
strong  at  the  bat  and  base  running,  was  a  daring 
slider,  and  absolutely  sure  and  swift  in  throwing. 
"If  only  they  won't  bat  grounders  to  him!"  said 
Berryman,  who  was  to  captain  at  first  base,  "  he'll 
play  second  without  an  error,  but  Sioux  Killer's 
shy  of  grounders." 

Kod  felt  the  lump  away  up  in  his  throat  again 
as  he  bade  good-by  to  his  faithful  friend  and 
chum,  and  there  was  a  mist  before  his  eyes  that 
afternoon  that  made  grounders  even  more  than 
usually  fateful.  There  was  shaking  of  heads  in 
the  nine  when  they  gathered  after  practice,  and 
Rod  was  unusually  solemn,  so  was  Berryman,  but 
the  die  was  cast.  No  better  all-round  player 
could  be  put  on  second.  "  Fumble"  or  not,  it  had 
to  be  Shoshonee.  "  Pray  for  flies,  fellows,"  said 
Captain  Bob,  as  they  scattered  for  bed  the  night 
before  the  match,  and  no  one  echoed  the  sugges- 
tion with  greater  zeal  than  did  our  "  Buster"  of 
the  days  at  Fort  Frayne. 

Perfect  as  a  June  day  could  be  came  the 
afternoon  of  the  match.  The  collegians  had  ar- 
rived on  a  special  train  with  half  Urbana  at  their 


118  TEOOPEE  BOSS. 

back.  Tliey  had  dined  with  the  E-ockford  team 
at  the  training-table,  extended  for  the  occasion, 
each  boy  having  on  his  right  the  collegian  who 
was  to  play  the  corresponding  position,  and  Rod 
found  himself  blushingly  doing  the  honors  to  a 
stalwart,  sunburned,  brown-moustached  young 
athlete  of  twenty-two  if  he  was  a  day, — the  cap- 
tain of  the  Urban  a  nine.  The  managers  were 
there,  too,  and  the  change  pitchers,  the  substitutes, 
and  the  umpire,  a  fat  gentleman  of  forty-five  in  a 
suit  of  blue  serge  upon  whom  all  Rockford  Hall 
gazed  in  awe,  for  there  was  what  was  left  of  one 
of  the  most  famous  players  of  his  day.  Indeed, 
with  the  biggest  and  best  dinner  since  Thanks- 
giving before  them,  the  boys  of  Rockford  could 
hardly  eat  at  all  for  staring  at  and  commenting 
upon  their  distinguished  visitors.  But  they  had 
to  hurry  through  and  get  out  and  rest  under  the 
trees,  while  the  tables  were  reset  for  the  array 
of  visitors, — fathers,  mothers,  uncles,  aunts,  sis- 
ters, and  brothers,  and  the  girls  who  came  with 
them.  And  the  Urbana  contingent,  even  to  those 
who  brought  lunch-baskets,  were  hospitably  bidden 
to  the  feast,  and  at  last  when  all  were  comforted, 
there  was  a  general  scattering  over  the  beautiful 
park,  and  at  four  o'clock  the  biggest  gathering 
ever  seen  on  Rockford's  playground.  There  had 
long  been  a  small  stand  back  of  the  catcher,  but 
this  had  been  added  to,  and,  in  great  numbers, 


TKOOPEK  BOSS.  119 

benches,  chairs,  and  camp-stools  were  extended  out 
to  right  and  left,  well  back  from  tL*:?  foul  line, 
and  the  green  turf  had  been  freshly  mown  and 
looked  like  velvet,  and  the  base  and  coaching 
lines  and  the  pitcher's  box  had  all  been  newly- 
traced  in  snowy  whitewash.  "  Mighty  pretty 
field,"  said  the  umpire.  "  Don't  wonder  your  boys 
put  up  a  good  game  of  ball.  Well,  it's  time  they 
were  here ;"  and,  even  as  he  spoke,  to  a  burst  of 
martial  music,  out  from  behind  the  big  dormitory, 
welcomed  by  a  cheer,  the  players  came, — Rock- 
ford  in  their  dainty  dress  of  white,  with  blue 
trimmings,  belts,  and  stockings,  all  freshly  "  laun- 
dered" for  the  occasion,  Urbana  striding  along 
after  them  in  a  business-like  costume  of  gray  with 
U  C  in  big  blue  letters  on  the  breast.  Proudly 
Urbana's  drum-major  led  the  way  into  the  ap- 
plauding field,  and  here  the  nines  broke  ranks 
for  the  fifteen  minutes  each  of  preliminary  prac- 
tice. Heavens,  how  keenly,  breathlessly,  the  boys 
watched  Urbana's  famous  fielders  as  the  ball  was 
batted  skyward  to  the  outer  garden  or  sent  skim- 
ming to  the  bases,  there  to  be  gathered  up  and 
fired  like  chain  lightning  to  first !  and  how  the 
Urbanas  pretended  not  to  watch  their  boyish  an- 
tagonists, even  while  involuntarily  applauding 
some  quick,  pretty  pick  up  and  throw  that  told 
how  coaching  and  practice  had  profited  the  nine ! 
At  last  came  the  summons,  and  the  captains  flipped 


120  TKOOPER  EOSS. 

up  the  dollar,  as  was  the  fashion  of  the  day,  and 
big  Berryman  smiled  grimly  as  it  came  up  heads, 
and  he  sent  Urbana  to  the  bat  and  trotted  nimbly 
out  to  his  station,  the  blue  legs  of  his  team  dan- 
cing away  to  the  field. 

And  then  everybody  took  a  long  breath,  and  all 
eyes  were  on  Jake  Lansing,  Kockford's  main  hope 
and  best  pitcher,  for  Jake  was  a  school-boy  wonder 
whom  the  Urbana's  found  it  difficult  to  hit  when 
the  autumn  game  was  played,  and  who  was  re- 
puted to  have  improved  immensely  under  careful 
coaching  during  the  spring.  Score-cards  with  the 
batting  order  of  both  nines  had  been  distributed 
through  the  swarm  of  spectators,  and  the  Urbana 
contingent,  all  wearing  in  some  fashion  the  emerald 
and  old-gold  colors  of  the  college,  broke  into  hand- 
clapping  and  shouts  of  "  Perry !  Perry !"  as  a 
lithe,  sunburned,  slender  young  fellow  strode  up 
from  the  bench,  his  bat  over  his  shoulder.  "  That 
fellow  can  run  bases  like  a  streak,"  said  Mr.  Weld. 
"  If  he  reaches  first  he's  good  for  a  run." 

And  now  for  one  minute  look  at  the  field  as  the 
sprinter  of  Urbana  College  steps  up  to  the  home 
plate.  Never  mind  the  thronged,  fan-fluttering 
grandstand  or  the  long,  long  rows  of  parasol- 
shaded  camp-stools  and  chairs  and  benches.  Look 
only  at  the  fair,  sunshiny  greensward,  with  its 
fresh,  white  lines,  and  the  eight  sprightly  young 
fellows  scattered  at  broad  intervals  over  its  trim 


TROOPER  ROSS.  121 

and  elastic  surface.  Chunky  Billy  Cooper,  Rock- 
ford's  catcher,  is  playing  far  back  under  the  stand, 
the  fat  umpire,  flicking  some  dust  from  his  trou- 
sers with  a  big  silk  handkerchief,  has  just  shouted 
"  Play  ball,"  and  is  stooping  now  to  observe  the 
first  shot,  while  Lansing  is  waiting  for  the  new 
white  ball  to  make  the  circuit  of  the  bases  and 
light  in  his  hands.  Buster  has  sent  it  like  a  white 
streak  to  Captain  Bob  at  first  and  trotted  back  to 
his  line.  It  is  pretty  to  note  how  that  infield  has 
divided  the  ground,  so  that  shortstop  and  Buster 
are  almost  equally  distant  from  second  base,  and  big 
Bob  and  his  opposite  at  third  well  out  from  their 
goals.  The  ball  that  breaks  through  that  picket  line 
will  be  a  stinger  and  no  mistake,  and  Berryman's 
brown  face  is  full  of  hope  and  pluck  and  eager  ex- 
citement as  he  glances  at  his  out-fielders  and  then 
at  the  in  and  signals  to  Lansing,  "  Let  her  go !" 

Go  she  does,  first  ball  of  the  game,  with  a 
"whiz"  and  a  bafiling  curve  at  which  Perry  need- 
lessly ducks,  and  over  which  the  umpire  makes  a 
sprawling,  straddling  leap,  and  vociferates  "  Ball 
one!"  Another,  also  wide,  follows  like  a  flash, 
and  again  does  the  stentorian  shout  of  "  Ball"  ring 
over  the  field,  and  little  Rockford  boys,  despite 
cautions  to  silence,  begin  to  moan,  and  Rod  feels 
a  cold  wave  go  down  his  back.  Berryman  eyes 
Lansing  without  a  word,  and  Lansing,  scowling  a 
little,  eyes  Urbana's  batsman,  the  lively  Perrego. 

T  11 


122  TKOOPER  ROSS. 

This  time  our  pitcher  lifts  high  the  ball  in  both 
hands,  it  seems,  and  balances  on  his  right  foot 
and  twists  his  left  leg  about  his  right  and  gives  a 
writhe  that  seems  to  suddenly  unwind  him  and 
set  him  a  spinning,  and  out  of  the  midst  of  a 
whirl  of  legs  and  arms  the  white  sphere  shoots 
over  the  plate  and  the  umpire  bawls  "Strike!" 
whereat  there  are  cheers  from  big  Kockfords  and 
squeals  from  little  ones,  and  Chunky  Bill,  who 
has  donned  his  mask  and  come  up  behind  the  bat, 
hammers  his  big  mit  twice  with  his  bare  fist, 
hitches  at  his  knickerbockers,  and  squats  low. 
Lansing  coils  up  again,  again  unwinds,  and  Perre- 
go's  bat  flashes  through  the  air  and  nearly  swings 
him  off  his  feet,  as  the  ball  lands  with  a  "  spat" 
in  Cooper's  stopper,  and  a  yell  of  frantic  delight 
goes  uj)  from  Rockford's  youngsters,  drowning 
the  umpire's  unnecessary  announcement,  for  the 
whole  crowd  sees  the  strike.  Perrego  flushes  even 
through  the  tan, — that  down  shoot  utterly  fooled 
him, — and  the  Urbana  players  hitch  uneasily  on  the 
bench.  Another  ball,  almost  before  he  has  time  to 
gather  himself,  and,  stung  by  the  shouts,  he  whacks 
at  it  savagely.  A  yell  from  Urbana's  followers  that 
begins  full-lunged  and  forcible  suddenly  loses  vol- 
ume and  then  dies  out  in  an  "  Ah-h !"  The  ball  has 
popped  up,  an  easy  fly,  and  is  circling  slowly  over 
first  base.  Perrego  dashes  for  the  base,  so  does  Lan- 
sing to  cover  the  vacant  bag,  for  Berryman,  with 


TKOOPER  ROSS.  123 

his  eye  on  the  ball,  is  trotting  slowly  backward, 
and  both  dashes  are  needless  for  the  fly  settles  in 
his  broad  palm  and  the  first  man  is  out.  Hand- 
clapping  and  a  school-yell  greet  the  play,  and 
"Perry"  comes  back  to  the  bench  as  another 
blithe  young  fellow  takes  his  place.  No  !  not  his 
place  exactly,  for  he  stej^s  to  the  right  of  the  plate 
and  Kod  edges  off  towards  the  field,  for  this  is 
Powell,  a  famous  left-hand  thrower  and  batsman. 
Carelessly  he  swings  the  hickory  over  his  shoul- 
der and  eyes  the  pitcher.  The  ball  comes  with  a 
rush,  and  there  is  a  resounding  crack  and  a  yell 
from  all  Urbana  as,  tossing  aside  his  bat,  the  long 
left-fielder  shoots  for  his  base,  where  Berryman's 
left  foot  is  already  planted  and  his  keen  eyes  are 
flashing  straight  across  the  field.  Zipping  over 
the  springy  turf  the  ball  has  sped,  straight  for 
shortstop,  and  that  cool-headed  youngster,  care- 
fully taught,  stoops,  gathers  it  with  both  hands, 
springs  suddenly  erect,  and  actually  holds  it  a 
second,  gazing  calmly  at  first ;  then  he  lets  go  and 
away  it  flies  across  the  diamond,  lands  in  Berry- 
man's  clutches  two  yards  ahead  of  Powell,  and 
Rockford  shrieks  with  joy.  "  Two  out — no  runs !" 
Then  comes  Rod's  guest,  Urbana's  handsome 
young  captain  and  second  base.  Only  six  balls 
has  Lansing  pitched,  two  men  are  out  and  none 
on  bases.  The  head  master  is  standing  up  and 
has  forgotten  what  Urbana's  professor  of  chemistry 


124  TKOOPER  KOSS. 

was  sayiag.  Dr.  Runyon's  heart  is  with  his  boys. 
"Sock  it  to  'em,  McClure !"  say  the  Urbana  back- 
ers. "Home  run,  Mac!"  But  Mac  shakes  his 
head.  He  hasn't  gauged  that  boy  pitcher  yet, 
and  if  Perrego  could  do  no  better  than  pop  up  a 
fly,  what  can  be  expected  of  him  ?  "  Ball !"  shouts 
the  umpire.  "  Ball  two !"  "  What's  the  matter, 
Lansing  ?  Don't  go  wild  now,"  are  the  murmurs 
in  the  crowd.  "Ball  three!"  Merciful  powers, 
boys,  but  that's  bad !  "  Brace  up,  Lan !"  and  Lan 
braces.  He  ties  himself  in  a  knot  again,  then 
suddenly  uncoils.  Bang  goes  the  captain's  bat 
and  away  goes  the  batter,  and  away,  too,  goes  the 
ball — high,  higher — far  over  the  fielders'  heads, 
far  out  to  the  left  center,  and  two  pairs  of  white 
and  blue  legs  are  chasing  madly  from  opposite 
directions,  while  the  Urbana  captain,  circling  well, 
has  bounded  across  first  and  swung  out  for  second. 
All  in  vain.  All  Rockford  springs  to  its  feet — 
scholars  and  tutors — and  screams  with  ecstasy,  for 
Jimmy  Bolton  "  gets  under"  that  sailing  sphere 
and  meets  it  as  it  comes  whirling  earthward,  grasps 
it  eagerly,  then  throws  it  hard  for  second,  just  to 
show  what  he  could  do  were  the  runner  not  already 
out.  Oh,  luckless  Urbana !  You  are  "  goose-egged 
by  the  Kid  Nine!" 

There  is  a  scene  of  mad  joy  among  the  Rock- 
ford  crowd, — of  small  boys  hugging  each  other 
and  dancing  frantically.    There  is  a  din  of  shouts 


TROOPEE  ROSS.  125 

and  squeals  and  whistles  as  the  blue-legged  field 
comes  trotting  briskly  in  and  the  grays  more 
soberly  trot  to  their  stations.  There  is  a  chorus 
of  hand-clapping  as  Berryman  whispers  a  word 
to  big  Nugent,  Rockford's  right  fielder  and  hard 
hitter,  and  Nugent  steps  to  the  plate.  Clem  has 
picked  up  the  ball  and,  just  to  set  things  going, 
starts  it  to  shortstop,  affects  to  take  no  interest  in 
the  first  man  at  the  bat  until  the  ball  is  once  more 
in  his  grasp,  then  with  easy  confidence  faces  him, 
lifts  high  both  hands,  lifts  high  his  left  knee,  bal- 
ances an  instant  on  his  right  toe,  then  unlimbers 
all  at  once  and  sends  the  ball  hissing  towards  the 
plate.  Nugent  ducks  as  though  it  were  aimed  at 
his  head,  whereat  everybody  laughs.  Clem  grins ; 
then  scowls,  for  the  umpire  shouts  "  Ball  one !" 
and  Clem  meant  it  to  split  the  air  just  over  the 
plate.  Clem  steadies  himself,  repeats  his  gyra- 
tions ;  away  goes  the  ball ;  whack !  says  the  bat, 
and  all  Rockford  springs  to  its  feet  again  as  Nu- 
gent streaks  it  for  first,  while  the  ball  spins  over 
the  turf,  straight  as  a  die,  just  where  no  infielder 
can  touch  it.  Up  goes  a  howl  of  delight  as  Nu- 
gent darts  across  the  bag  before  the  ball  comes 
back.  Then  up  steps  Billy  Gifford,  bat  in  hand, 
and  Rockford's  second  batter  is  at  the  rubber. 
Two  minutes  later  he  is  still  there,  with  three 
balls,  two  strikes,  and  a  brace  of  fouls  called  on 

him,  and  still  Nugent  hangs  at  first,  unable  to  see 
11* 


126  TKOOPER  ROSS. 

a  way  to  second.  The  coacliers  are  bidding  liim 
do  everything  but  really  run,  but  Goddard  watches 
him  like  a  cat,  and  twice  sends  the  ball  to  the 
baseman  in  hoi^es  of  catching  the  runner  nap- 
ping. The  tension  is  severe.  The  Urbana  party 
is  silent.  Only  the  irrepressible  small  boys  keep 
up  their  twitter,  too  nervous  and  excitable  to  be 
still.  Nugent  is  dancing  like  a  cork  a  little  off 
first  base,  eagerly  watching  the  ball,  madly  long- 
ing for  a  chance  to  make  a  dash  for  second,  yet 
dreading  to  start  lest  that  active  catcher  should 
get  the  ball  there  first,  and  all  Rockford  knows 
how  Goddard  can  throw  to  bases.  Possibly  Clem 
thinks  the  game  "  easy  pie"  ;  possibly  it  is  a  pre- 
arrangement  between  McClure  and  himself  to  let 
the  Kockford  boys  get  a  good  start,  encourage 
them  amazingly,  and  then  win  the  game  in  the 
last  innings.  Whether  or  no,  he  now  gives  Gif- 
ford  a  chance.  The  ball  comes  straight  from  the 
shoulder  this  time,  and  GifiPord,  stifling  the  long- 
ing to  try  to  lift  it  for  a  home  run,  hits  heavily 
down  as  he  has  been  instructed,  and  the  ball 
bounds  fiercely  over  the  pitcher's  head  and  shoots 
midway  between  shortstop  and  Captain  McClure, 
a  "  rattling"  base  hit  and  no  more,  but  Nugent 
slides  into  third  before  it  is  fielded  thither,  and 
Eockford's  yells  are  frantic.  Then  Gifford  does 
a  foolish  thing.  He  is  safe  at  first  when,  in  lioj^es 
of  catching  Nugent,  the  ball  is  thrown  in  to  third, 


TEOOPEK   EOSS.  127 

and,  under  cover  of  the  shouts  and  cheers  and 
hand-ckxjDping,  he  loses  his  head  and  thinks  to 
play  sharp  and  steal  a  base.  A  louder  yell  goes 
up  as  he  darts  on  for  second,  while  the  ball  is  still 
held  by  the  opposing  baseman.  The  collegian 
tosses  it  easily  to  McClure,  who  bends  and  rubs  it 
down  along  Gilford's  spine,  as  the  would-be  base 
stealer  slides  head-foremost  for  the  bag,  and  the 
umpire  waves  him  out.  Gilford  finds  his  feet  but 
slowly,  and  looks  foolish  and  bewildered  as  he 
brushes  the  dust  out  of  his  knickerbockers  and 
ruefully  trots  back  to  the  bench  to  meet  Berry- 
man's  reproving  shake  of  the  head.  "  You  can't 
take  chances  like  that.  We're  not  playing  kids," 
says  big  Bob.  "  You  could  have  had  second  in  a 
minute  easy.  Goddard  won't  throw  there  with  a 
man  on  third  ready  to  come  in.  Nugent  was  still 
sprawled  on  the  bag  when  you  started.  Watch 
Pepper  now,"  and  "  Pepper,"  so-called  because  his 
real  name  is  Salter,  picks  up  a  light  bat  and  sends 
the  first  ball  skyward,  runs  uncertainly  at  first  as 
though  he  knows  he  might  as  well  wait,  and  his 
doubt  is  confirmed.  The  ball  comes  slowly  over 
and  drops  into  shortstop's  waiting  hands.  Two 
out,  no  runs,  and  all  that  is  needed  to  score  is  a 
sharp,  low  crack  at  the  ball.  "  Hit  down,  Jimmy  !" 
orders  Berryman,  and  the  fourth  player  trots  to 
the  rubber,  and  Jimmy  waits  until  he  gets  a  good 
one  and  hits  as  directed,  hard  and  down,  and  the 


128  TROOPEE  ROSS. 

ball  goes  zipping  across  the  infield  and  comes 
shooting  over  to  first,  fielded  by  McClure,  while 
Jimmy  is  ten  feet  away  from  the  base  whereon  he 
would  be,  and  Rockford,  too,  is  out.  "Well," 
says  Bob,  "  we've  tied  the  score  anyhow !"  and 
silence  settles  over  the  field,  as  the  nine  take  sta- 
tion for  the  second  innings. 

Lansing  is  still  new  to  the  Urbanas.  The  first 
four  that  came  to  bat  are  puzzled  by  his  curves, 
and  only  scratch  hits  or  easy  poj)-up  flies  result. 
Amid  shrieks  of  joy  from  the  younger  pupils  and 
shouts  of  applause  from  the  elders,  he  actually 
strikes  out  young  Mr.  Porter,  one  of  Urbana's 
society  swells, — an  amateur,  proud  of  telling  how 
he  has  played  in  practice  games  with  Anson's  men 
and  held  his  own,  sir,  and  made  a  home-run  off" 
even  such  a  pitcher  as  "  Smiling  Mickey"  when 
the  Gothams  were  last  in  Chicago.  Bob  Berry- 
man  hugs  his  pitcher  as  the  latter  doffs  his  cap  in 
response  to  the  plaudits  of  the  crowd.  Such  a 
feat  is  worth  more  than  the  Lambert  Scholarship, 
as  the  holder  of  that  benefice  is  willing  to  admit. 
"  Now  if  we  can  only  do  something  at  the  bat !"  say 
the  boys,  as  they  cluster  together  at  the  bench. 
"  Bunt  it.  Shanks,  and  beat  it  to  first,"  are  the  cau- 
tions given  to  a  tall,  lanky  fellow  who  is  lunging 
up  to  the  plate,  a  runner  famous  at  Bockford 
Hall.  Shanks  scowls.  He  wishes  to  hit  hard, 
but  he  obeys,  for  next  behind  him  comes  Buster, 


TKOOPER  KOSS.  129 

as  safe  and  sure  a  hitter  as  there  is  in  the  nine. 
"  Steal  second  and  'Shonee  will  bat  you  in,"  Ber- 
ryman  has  whispered,  as  Shanks  chooses  his  stick, 
and  the  eyes  of  all  are  upon  him  as  the  first  ball 
comes.  An  incurve,  and  Shanks  wisely  lets  it  by. 
The  second  is  more  to  his  taste.  He  quickly  raises 
the  bat,  simply  pokes  it  at  the  swift  flying  sphere, 
then  races  madly  for  first  while  the  ball,  checked 
in  its  course,  recoils  and  rolls  slowly  up  along  the 
foul  line,  but  luckily  keeps  inside.  Clem  springs 
for  it,  but  it  is  as  elusive  as  a  straw  hat  in  a  high 
wind.  Some  one  afterwards  said  Clem  purposely 
fumbled  the  ball.  At  all  events,  Shanks  bounds 
across  the  bag,  two  yards  ahead  of  the  throw,  and 
then  in  the  midst  of  frantic  yells  gathers  himself 
and  dashes  for  second,  for  the  throw  is  high  over 
the  baseman's  head,  and  nothing  but  McClure's 
magnificent  play  prevents  its  going  out  of  bounds. 
He  had  sped  to  cover  first  the  moment  the  bunt 
was  made,  and,  running  like  a  deer,  stops  it  within 
five  yards  of  the  benches,  even  though  he  cannot 
recover  in  time  to  whirl  about  and  throw  to  second. 
Shanks,  panting,  is  safe  on  the  bag  when  the  ball 
lands  in  shortstop's  hands. 

And  now  comes  Rod's  turn.  "  A  two-bagger. 
Buster !"  "  Smite  her  for  a  home,  Rod !"  "  Give 
her  a  Shoshonee  swat,  Sioux  Killer!"  shout  the 
boys,  and  a  big  burly  man  in  a  pearl-colored  high 
hat,  known  as  a  "  Tammany  Tile"  in  the  East, 


130  TROOPER  ROSS. 

steps  over  to  Mr.  Weld,  who  is  eagerly  wateliing 
tlie  game.  "  So  that's  Jack  Hammond's  chum,  is 
it  ?"  he  asks,  and  cordially  shakes  hands  with  the 
tutor.  "He's  a  likely-looking  youngster.  You 
know  I  sent  Jack  to  the  Point, — I  re^Dresent  the 
Eighth  District  in  Congress."  Mr.  Weld  doesn't 
know  it,  but  feigns,  politely  and  diplomatically. 
"  We  all  miss  Jack,"  he  says,  "  but  West  Point's 
the  place  for  him.  He's  our  finest  mathematician. 
"  Yes,"  says  the  Honorable  Mr.  Hammond,  "  I'm 
only  afraid  he's  studied  too  hard  here.  The 
trouble  with  those  examiners  at  the  Point  is  they 
expect  a  boy  to  know  everything  that  can  only  be 
had  by  hard  study  and  then  show  no  signs  of 
wear.  They've  rejected  five  boys  for  me  in  less 
than  three  years.  Gad !  if  this  fellow  lands  on 
that  ball  squarely  it'll  be  for  a  four  baser  sure,'' 
and  the  Congressmen  looks  admiringly  at  Pod's 
sturdy  shoulders  and  deep  chest.  Four  balls  have 
been  pitched,  not  one  of  them  to  Shoshonee's 
liking,  though  the  umpire  calls  the  second  a  strike, 
and  the  boy's  eyes  are  blazing  as  he  stands  at  the 
plate,  quivering  with  excitement  and  eagerness, 
the  bat  well  over  his  shoulder.  Meantime,  Shanks 
is  playing  away  off  second,  striving  to  get  a  long 
start  so  that  he  may  come  sprinting  home  in  the 
event  of  the  promised  base  hit.  The  fielders  are 
edging  forward,  ready  for  a  swift  throw  to  nab 
him  at  the  plate.     The  fifth  ball  comes  flashing 


TKOOPER  ROSS.  131 

in  on  a  slanting  sunbeam,  and  Rod's  shoulder 
seems  hard  behind  the  grain  of  the  bat  as  it  hits 
with  resounding  whack.  Like  a  bird  the  ball  goes 
soaring  over  second  and,  Rockford  and  Urbana 
both,  the  spectators  seem  to  rise  from  their  seats 
as  though  to  follow  it,  while,  to  the  music  of  madly 
triumphant  cheers,  Shoshonee  speeds  on  his  round. 
But  the  roar  of  triumph  dies  into  something  like 
a  moan  of  apprehension,  for  Urbana's  centre 
fielder,  his  eyes  upward,  is  dancing  swiftly  back- 
ward. Rod  tears  past  first  base,  but  Shanks  is 
glued  to  second.  If  he  runs  on  a  caught  fly  he, 
too,  is  out  and  he  dare  not  quit  the  bag.  Three 
seconds  decide  it.  A  wild,  almost  frenzied  yell 
bursts  from  Rockford's  throat,  for  just  as  the  ball 
is  landing  in  the  nimble  fielder's  hands,  his  heel 
catches,  he  staggers,  strives  to  recover  himself,  but 
cannot,  and  keels  over  on  the  broad  of  his  back 
while  the  ball  bounds  harmlessly  away.  When 
that  wandering  j^lanet  is  recovered  and  sent  whist- 
ling homeward,  Shanks  is  being  pounded  on  the 
back  and  hand-shaken  at  the  bench  and  Rod  is 
breathing  hard  and  joyously  at  third  base.  First 
run  for  Rockford,  even  if  it  wasn't  a  safe  hit !" 

Then  Jimmy  Duncan  whacks  at  one  of  Clem's 
low  "  down  shoots"  and  pops  up  a  fly  that  McClure 
cannot  decline,  and  then  Hoi  way,  of  the  "  Second 
Latin,"  a  boy  full  of  promise  in  field  sports,  drives 
a  hot  liner  at  the  pitcher  which  he  only  partially 


132  TKOOPEE  BOSS. 

stops,  and  Holway  scuds  to  first  to  be  met  tliere 
by  his  fate,  picked  up  and  fielded  by  that  imp  of 
a  shortstop.  Then,  with  two  out  and  Rod  on  third, 
Malloy  hits  an  easy  one  to  Mr.  Porter,  which  that 
young  gentleman  drops,  and  an  instant  later  Rod 
comes  bounding  over  the  home  plate,  chased  in 
by  the  ball,  but  safe  and  sound.  The  score  is  two 
to  nothing  when  the  next  boy  flies  out  to  Perrego. 
Then  comes  the  third  innings  and — catastrophe. 
Urbana  has  begun  to  gauge  Lansing.  Two  men 
have  got  their  bases  and  been  batted  or  sacrificed 
around  to  second  and  third  when  "  Lefty"  Leggett 
comes  to  the  plate  and,  true  to  Hammond's  part- 
ing injunction.  Rod  edges  away  from  his  base  to 
cover  the  field.  Thus  far  luck  has  been  with  him, 
not  a  grounder  has  come  his  way,  but  the  very 
first  ball  Lansing  sends  at  the  tall  left-hander  is 
met  by  a  swinging  crack  of  the  bat  and  driven 
like  a  shot,  barely  skimming  the  turf,  as  though 
to  split  in  half  the  line  joining  the  first  and  second 
base.  All  infielders  are  playing  within  the  lines 
to  head  off  the  runner  for  home,  and  Rod  has  even 
less  time  than  usual  to  leap  in  front,  then  to  stoop 
and  stop  it.  He  never  knows  just  how  it  hap- 
pened. His  left  hand  stings  for  an  hour  later. 
A  groan  of  misery  and  disappointment  rises  from 
all  Rockford  as  the  ball  goes  bounding  away  into 
centre  field,  deflected  from  its  course  but  hardly 
checked,  and  a  big  error  is  scored  against  poor 


TROOPER  ROSS.  133 

Buster,  and  a  big,  big  lump  rises  in  his  throat 
again,  as  on  that  heart-breaking  misplay  two  run- 
ners come  bounding  in,  and  Leggett  safely  "  roosts" 
on  second.  The  ice  is  broken,  the  score  is  tied 
and  then  beaten,  for  a  sharp  base  hit  brings  Leg- 
gett home,  and  in  their  half  E-ockford  is  retired 
without  a  run.  Poor  Rod !  He  could  cover  his 
face  and  steal  away  and  die  of  mortification,  but  a 
broad  hand  is  laid  on  his  shoulder  as  he  sits  mourn- 
fully at  the  bench,  and  Mr.  Hammond  violates 
the  rules,  with  no  one  to  object, — he  being  a  repre- 
sentative in  Congress, — by  coming  out  and  speak- 
ing to  a  player.  "  You're  all  right,  youngster ; 
Kelly  himself  might  have  fumbled  that  ball. 
You'll  get  your  revenge  before  this  game  is  over," 
and,  glancing  gratefully  up,  Rod's  mournful  eyes 
light  for  the  first  time  on  Jack  Hammond's  friend 
and  uncle  and  Congressman.  "  I  shouldn't  mind 
so  much,"  he  begins,  "  only  I  promised  Jack  to 
wire," — and  then  the  thought  is  too  much  for  him, 
and  Rod  chokes.  "  Never  you  mind,  I  say,"  says 
Mr.  Hammond  again.  "  I've  been  a  base-ball 
crank  for  twenty  years,  and  you'll  come  out  all 
right  before  this  game's  over.  I'm  betting  on  it." 
At  last  comes  the  ninth  innings  this  fair  June 
evening,  just  as  the  factory  whistles  at  Rockford 
are  tooting  six  o'clock,  and  the  bells  are  chiming 
and  the  sun  is  throwing  long  slanting  beams  across 
the  field.     Rockford  has  been  doing  a  little  better, 


134  TROOPER  ROSS. 

and  even  Kod  is  taking  hope  and  comfort,  for  a 
double  play,  two  "  assists,"  and  two  captured  flies 
have  been  credited  to  his  fielding,  and  he  has  hit 
safe  and  sure  twice,  batting  in  two  runs  in  the 
seventh  that  offset  the  two  he  let  in  in  the  third  ; 
but  the  score  stands  9  to  6  in  Urbana's  favor,  and, 
as  the  friends  of  the  collegians  say,  "  They  haven't 
half  tried."  But  now  McClure  feels  it  necessary 
to  increase  the  score.  Three  is  no  safe  margin  in 
base-ball,  even  against  boys  of  seventeen,  and  he 
tells  his  men  to  hit  for  all  they  are  worth  this  time, 
and  hit  they  do.  Before  Lansing  and  his  fellows 
can  fairly  realize  what  has  happened,  Perrego, 
Powell,  and  the  captain  himself  have  hit  safely 
and  got  to  their  bags,  for,  to  the  misery  of  all  Pock- 
ford,  every  base  is  full  and  only  one  man  out  when 
Mr.  Porter  steps  up  to  the  plate, — Porter  whom 
Lansing  struck  out  the  first  time  they  faced  each 
other.  Porter  who  missed  the  easy  fly,  Porter  who 
feels  that  now  is  his  grand  chance  to  redeem  his 
name  and,  by  one  magnificent  hit  to  the  far  field, 
empty  the  bases  and  fill  with  joyous  admiration 
the  hearts  of  all  Urbana. 

It  is  a  moment  of  drooping  courage,  almost  of 
despair,  for  Porter  can  hit  and  has  hit  hard  since 
his  luckless  beginning,  and  Berryman  signals  to 
his  fielders  and  even  motions  back  those  who  have 
closed  in.  Pod  is  surprised,  but  obeys.  There  is 
absolute  silence  for  a  moment  as  Shoshonee  finds 


TROOPER  ROSS.  135 

himself  once  more  back  of  tlie  familiar  base  line. 
He  wonders  if  anything  can  save  them.  Per- 
rego  is  keeping  close  to  third.  There  is  no  sense 
in  risking  anything  now.  Powell,  however,  is 
playing  away  ont,  almost  midway  between  second 
and  third,  for  he  well  knows  that  a  throw  to  second 
to  catch  him  would  never  be  ventured  with  Perry 
ready  to  dash  home.  No  fielder's  trick  can  harm 
him  where  he  stands,  and  no  fly  ball  can  land  in 
fielder's  hands  before  he  can  get  back  to  the  base. 
Both  he  and  Perrego,  therefore,  are  crouching  like 
athletes  preparing  for  a  dash  of  a  hundred  yards. 
One  sharp,  low  hit  is  all  that  is  needed,  and  they 
see  it  in  Porter's  eye  as  he  faces  Lansing,  and 
Lansing  sees  it,  too.  He  cannot  give  him  a  base 
on  balls  now.  He  can  only  pitch  fair  and  square 
and  trust  to  fate  and  the  fielders.  Porter  lets 
three  balls  go  by,  then  lunges  and,  like  a  six- 
pound  cannon  shot,  that  ball  whistles  through 
space,  a  line  hit,  a  sure  hit,  a  safe  hit  if  there  ever 
was  one,  straight  over  Buster's  head.  Perrego 
and  Powell  spring  to  their  dash  for  home,  and  are 
half  way  thither  under  full  headway  when  checked 
by  a  terrific  cheer  from  Rockford,  and  loud  yells 
of  warning  from  benchers,  coachers,  and  Urbana 
generally.  Whack  went  Porter's  bat  upon  the 
leather.  Whack  an  instant  later  goes  the  leather 
into  Rod's  stinging  palm,  for,  leaping  high,  he 
meets  it  with  his  right  and  the  arm  flies  back  with 


136  TKOOPER  EOSS. 

the  force  of  the  shock  as  though  it  would  be  torn 
from  its  socket,  but  the  clutch  of  the  eager  fingers 
is  on  the  ball  and  it  is  firmly  grasped.  Another 
instant  and  the  boy  has  darted  for  second  base, 
firmly  planting  his  foot  upon  the  sack  as  he  springs 
by,  and  then,  whirling  in  his  tracks,  throws 
"  clean,  swift,  and  sure"  into  Shanks's  grasping 
hand  at  third  base.  "  A  trijDle !  a  triple  play,  by 
all  that's  glorious!"  fairly  screams  Mr.  Weld. 
"Striker  out!  Out  on  second  and  third!  Side 
out !"  shouts  the  umpire,  but  no  man  hears.  In  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye ;  in  the  flash  of  a  camera  the 
prettiest,  sharpest,  most  fatal  play  ever  seen  at 
Kockford  is  made,  and  Buster  Koss  is  the  hero  of 
the  day.  Merciful  powers,  how  the  boys  scream 
and  shout  and  pound  the  benches  and  toss  up  hats 
and  blazers,  chairs  and  camp-stools,  and  how  they 
cheer  Shoshonee  as  he  comes  running  in,  blushing 
like  a  girl,  and  oh,  so  happy  !  It  is  a  full  minute 
before  the  game  can  go  on.  It  is  no  easy  matter 
for  Perrego  to  realize  that  he  and  Powell  are  really 
out, — that  the  line  drive  was  after  all  only  a  cap- 
tured fly  and  it  caught  them  off  their  bases.  "  My 
aunt,  Rod !"  shouts  Berry  man  in  his  ears ;  "  if  Jack 
could  only  have  seen  that.  By  Jiminy,  we'll  beat 
'em  yet !" 

Five  minutes  later  Urbana  is  standing  up  on 
benches,  chairs,  and  tables,  for  its  famous  college 
nine  is  flying  signals  of  distress.     Clem  is  getting 


TEOOPEK  BOSS.  137 

wild,  and  has  given  a  base  on  balls  to  one  of  Rock- 
ford's  ^'  tail  enders,"  a  boy  who  basn't  made  a  sin- 
gle hit,  and  would  have  flied  out  if  given  half  a 
chance.  Burly  Cooper  "  sacrifices"  him  to  second, 
but  loses  his  own  head  in  the  effort.  Then  Nu- 
gent sends  him  home  with  a  beautiful  drive,  on 
which  he,  too,  reaches  second,  and,  a  moment  later, 
third  on  Gilford's  long  fly  that  Mr.  Porter  fails  to 
"  get  under"  in  ample  time,  and  Giflford,  too,  is 
safe.  Pepper,  too  ambitious,  strikes  out,  and  then 
comes  Daddy-Long-Legs — Shanks  himself — to  the 
bat,  and,  before  he  can  crouch,  an  inshoot  has 
stung  him  in  the  shoulder,  and  he  trots  to  first 
base,  rubbing  his  bruise,  but  grinning  from  ear  to 
ear.  Bases  filled,  two  men  out,  two  runs  to  tie 
the  score  and  three  to  win  the  game.  "Was  there 
ever  such  a  stake  ? — and  Buster  Ross  to  bat. 

Rod's  heart  is  fluttering  like  a  girl's,  his  nerves 
are  all  tingling,  his  head  is  almost  swimming  as 
he  hears  the  shouts,  long  and  loud,  with  which  he 
is  greeted.  Never  in  all  the  history  of  Rockford 
Hall  was  excitement  so  intense.  Never  in  its  long 
and  successful  career  has  the  head  master  known 
a  moment  to  compare  with  this.  It  seems  as 
though  its  name  and  fame — even  its  reputation 
for  scholarship — are  now  trembling  in  the  balance. 
Berryman,  who  follows  Buster  on  the  batting  list, 
strives  to  say  a  word,  but  Rod  cannot  hear.  Seats 
are  abandoned,  the  whole  concourse  of  people  is 

12* 


138  TROOPEK  ROSS. 

standing,  the  din  is  uproarious.  Clem  eyes  the 
batsman  warily  and  essays  a  smile.  Rod's  Scotch 
extraction  shows  itself  in  the  intensity  of  his  gaze. 
He  is  far  too  much  in  earnest  to  grin.  It  is  a 
frown,  if  anything,  that  darkens  his  eyes,  and  his 
mouth  is  set  like  a  trap.  Two  balls  have  sped 
by,  narrowly  watched,  but  avoided.  Clem  lets 
drive  the  third  just  as  the  sun  shoots  out  from 
behind  a  bank  of  summer  cloud  low  lying  in  the 
west,  and  the  flying  sphere  comes  tipped  with  gold. 
Rod's  shoulder  is  behind  the  bat  this  time  for  all 
he's  worth.  Small  boys  say  that  night  it  sounded 
like  a  clap  of  thunder  when  bat  met  ball,  but 
when  the  echo  comes  back  from  the  school-house 
wall  it  is  drowned  in  the  mad  yells  of  exultation 
of  all  Rockford,  and  the  fielders  are  chasing  furi- 
ously into  deep  right,  and,  one  after  another,  Nu- 
gent, Gilford,  and  Shanks  have  crossed  the  plate, 
and  there  is  no  need  for  Rod  to  chase  his  legs 
off, — he  has  batted  in  the  winning  run. 

"  If  I  had  it  to  do  over  again,  young  fellow,"  said 
Mr.  Hammond  that  evening  before  he  started  for 
home,  "  you'd  represent  my  district  at  the  Point, 
and  if  I  have  it  to  do  again  or  I  can  do  it  in 
any  way,  you'll  get  there,  and  don't  you  forget 
it!" 

"Do  you  think,  can  you  think  he  means  it, 
father  ?"  wrote  the  eager,  happy  boy  to  the  captain 
that  very  night.     "  Yet,  how  can  I  go  so  long  as 


TROOPER   ROSS.  139 

Jack  Hammond  holds  it  ?     They  can  never  *  find' 
Jack  in  '  math'  or  any  other  study." 

Just  one  week  later,  though,  as  the  great  school 
gathers  for  commencement  exercises,  good  Dr. 
Eunyon  silently  hands  Rod  a  telegram.  It  is 
brief  and  to  the  point. 

"Jack  passed.  Mowbray  failed.  His  father 
has  promised  me  to  nominate  Ross." 

Signed        "  Hammond,  M.C." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

And  both  to  Mr.  Hammond  and  the  doctor  did 
the  Honorable  M.C.  keep  his  promise,  and  our  Kod 
was  duly  named  a  cadet  candidate  for  future 
honors  at  the  Point,  but  even  then  the  fruition  of 
his  hopes  was  a  long  way  off.  He  was  only  seven- 
teen and  could  not  be  prepared  to  pass  the  entrance 
examination  for  admission  that  year,  even  in  Sep- 
tember, and  Captain  Ross  wisely  held  that  a  boy 
who  missed  plebe  camj)  was  robbed  of  an  invalu- 
able experience.  "  Stick  to  Rockford  and  mathe- 
matics another  year,  my  boy,"  he  said.  "  Come 
out  to  Washakie  for  another  vacation.  Shoot  and 
fish  and  ride  and  live  in  the  mountains  until  fall. 
You'll  be  all  the  better  for  study,"  and  Rod  re- 
ligiously carried  out  his  father's  wishes.  A  very 
grateful  man  was  Captain  Ross,  and  very  grateful 
letters  did  he  write  to  Messrs.  Hammond  and 
Mowbray  for  their  kindness  to  his  boy.  Local 
politicians,  you  may  be  sure,  made  much  complaint 

140 


TKOOPEE  ROSS.  141 

in  the  Fifth  Congressional  District  that  this  valu- 
able scholarship  had  been  given  to  "  an  outsider," 
but  Mr.  Mowbray  contented  himself  with  saying 
that  Buster  was  a  resident  of  the  district, — that 
his  mother's  family,  at  least,  lived  in  it, — that 
as  the  four  boys  he  had  appointed  in  three  years 
had  failed,  his  own  among  them,  he  merely  wished 
to  establish  one  of  two  things,  that  home  boys 
were  no  worse  than  the  "  outsiders,"  so  called,  in 
case  young  Koss  failed,  and  that  there  was  collu- 
sion in  favor  of  army  boys  in  case  he  were 
admitted. 

It  took  a  year  of  hard  work  to  fit  Buster  for  the 
"preliminary,"  and  Dr.  Bunyon  and  Mr.  Weld 
and  the  captain  himself  and  Bod,  too,  for  that 
matter,  had  many  anxious  moments.  Expert  as 
he  was  on  the  playground,  thorough  as  he  grew  to 
be  in  geography,  history,  and  Latin,  he  still 
stumbled  painfully  in  parsing,  and  only  the  hard- 
est study  enabled  him  to  triumph  over  equations. 
Arithmetic  he  at  last  seemed  to  master,  but  there 
was  still  doubt  and  grave  doubt  as  to  how  he  would 
stand  the  long  hard  lessons  and  the  complicated 
problems  to  be  met,  beyond  all  possibility  of  dodg- 
ing, when  once  fairly  started  at  the  Point. 

Bod  was  plucky  and  hopeful;  Bod's  mother 
was  confident.  Hammond  wrote  encouraging  let- 
ters and  often  playful  ones.  "  You  gave  me  my  first 
lessons  in  setting  up,"  said  he,  along  in  April,  "and 


142  TROOPEK  EOSS. 

now  I'm  accused  of  'boning'  corporalship  here. 
Well,  it's  true !  I  wish  to  wear  the  gold  lace  if 
for  no  other  reason  than  that  it'll  be  such  rousing 
fun  to  be  turned  out  over  plebes  and  have  you  in 
my  drill  squad.  Look  out  for  yourself,  Sioux 
Killer.  I  haven't  told  the  fellows  much  about 
you,  but  Mowbray  has  been  writing  to  two  of  the 
class  he  got  to  know  during  the  few  days  he  was 
here,  and  they  have  pumped  me  with  questions  by 
the  hour." 

At  last  came  spring  and  Hod's  transfer  to  the 
banks  of  the  Hudson  for  a  few  weeks'  careful 
coaching  under  Hammond's  instructor  of  the  pre- 
vious year,  and  at  last  the  physical  examination, 
which  he  passed  triumphantly.  Then  came  the 
ordeal  of  the  written  tests,  and  never  until 
months  afterwards  did  Buster  learn  by  how  nar- 
row a  margin  he  finally  passed  the  entrance  gate, 
and  was  promptly  turned  over  to  the  tender 
mercies  of  the  drill  instructors  and  measured  for 
his  plebe  outfit. 

Story  after  story  has  been  written  of  cadet  life 
at  the  Point,  and  in  each  and  every  one  much 
stress  has  been  laid  on  first  impressions  and  much 
space  been  given  to  Fourth  Class,  or  "Plebe," 
Camp.  All  this  in  Kod's  case  is  to  be  omitted, 
for  his  story  was  like  that  of  dozens  of  other 
young  fellows,  his  experiences,  life,  and  sensations 
practically  the  same  as  theirs,  and  his  hours  of 


TKOOPER  ROSS.  143 

homesickness  only  a  little  less.  All  boys  know 
some  days  of  weariness  of  spirit,  so  trying  is  tke 
routine,  and  many  feel  long  hours  of  dejection  and 
despond,  and  to  poor  Kod  these  latter  came  only 
too  often.  He  went  through  the  torments  of 
plebehood  like  a  man,  did  his  guard  and  fatigue 
duty  like  a  soldier,  was  cheery,  hopeful,  and  an 
enviable  fellow  in  his  class  just  so  long  as  they  re- 
mained in  camp.  It  was  after  the  long  ten  months 
of  barrack  work  and  study  began  that  his  short- 
comings became  apparent.  Starting  in  a  far  down 
section  because  of  the  alphabetical  responsibilities 
of  his  name,  he  found  before  November  that  even  E. 
placed  him  too  high,  and  that  he  had  to  drop  into 
a  still  lower  section  in  that  dreadful  algebraic 
course.  In  other  studies  he  could  hold  his  own. 
In  ranks,  in  the  gymnasium,  and  on  the  drill- 
ground  he  was  the  peer  of  any  fellow  in  his  class, 
a  soldier  from  the  ground  up,  but  January 
nearly  severed  his  connection  with  the  corps.  He 
passed  only  "  by  the  skin  of  his  teeth." 

"If  hard  work  can  do  it,"  he  wrote  to  his 
father,  "  I  still  believe  I  shall  master  the  course. 
Hammond  is  kind  as  ever.  He's  coming  in  to 
help  and  coach  me  on  "  trig"  and  geometry,  and 
I  can  see  plainly  that  our  instructor  tries  to  lift 
me  along,  though  some  of  our  fellows  say  he 
would  rather  find  a  cadet  deficient  than  marry  a 
fortune.     I've  no  one  to  blame  if  I  don't  succeed, 


144  TKOOPER  BOSS. 

not  even  myself,  father,  for  you  know  well  that  I 
have  studied  hard  and  faithfully." 

This  letter  was  one  that  gave  the  veteran  troo]) 
leader  many  a  sad  hour.  It  is  true  the  boy  need 
never  blame  himself  if  he  failed  to  pass  the  next 
examination,  thought  Captain  Koss,  but  is  it  true 
he  has  no  one  else  to  blame  ?  Have  not  I  some 
accountability  for  all  the  long  years  I  let  him 
waste  upon  the  frontier,  studying  nothing  but 
natural  history  ?  Mrs.  Ross,  on  the  contrary,  was 
disposed  to  look  at  matters  from  a  very  different 
point  of  view.  She  was  persuaded  that  the  whole 
system  at  the  Academy  was  in  need  of  remodelling 
if,  as  Rod  said,  there  was  so  much  difficulty  in 
coming  up  to  the  standard.  Two  of  the  younger 
officers  of  the  regiment  were  on  duty  at  the  Point, 
and  they  wrote  lovely  things  of  Rod.  He  was 
one  of  the  manliest  boys  in  his  class  and  one  of 
the  most  soldierly.  He  was  sure  to  be  "made 
high"  among  the  corporals,  for  his  conduct  was 
admirable  and  no  one  could  beat  him  in  soldierly 
bearing.  He  had  never  had  a  report  for  a  "  late" 
at  roll-call  or  carelessness  or  inattention  of  any 
kind.  He  was  liked  by  the  old  cadets  and  re- 
garded with  not  a  little  jealousy,  as  sometimes  hap- 
pens, among  his  comrades  the  plebes.  "  Surely," 
said  Mrs.  Ross,  "a  boy  so  highly  spoken  of  can 
be  in  no  danger  of  being  discharged.  Surely  they 
will  not  send  away  a  young  man  of  such  ability 


TEOOPER  ROSS.  145 

and  character  because  he  does  not  fully  under- 
stand some  utterly  useless  and  impractical  science." 
Unluckily  for  the  good  lady,  Mrs.  Ross  was  not  a 
member  of  the  Academic  Board,  and  her  argu- 
ments bore  little  weight.  She  sorely  missed  her 
big  boy  and  wrote  to  him  three  or  four  times  a 
week,  and  exacted  of  him  that  he  should  write 
letters  as  frequently  and  as  long  until  the  captain 
had  to  say  that  she  was  thereby  taking  up  time 
that,  under  all  the  circumstances,  could  far  better 
be  employed  in  study  or  exercise,  and  begged  that 
she  be  satisfied  with  one  letter  a  week,  written  on 
Sundays.  Mrs.  Koss  maintained  that  no  boy  was 
ever  the  worse  for  the  time  he  took  in  writing  to 
his  mother,  which  as  an  abstract  proposition  does 
very  well  and  is  possibly  true,  but  with  all  his 
love  for  her  Rod  found  it  very  difficult  to  comply 
with  the  requirements  unless  he  gave  up  to  letter- 
writing  the  half-hour  after  supper  he  ought  to 
spend  in  the  open  air.  He  worked  on  diligently, 
painfully,  and,  thanks  to  Hammond's  assistance 
and  his  own  earnest  labor,  he  managed  to  make  so 
reasonable  a  record  in  geometry  and  "  descriptive" 
as  to  overcome  the  losses  in  "  trig."  He  went  up 
for  the  June  examination  with  an  anxious  heart, 
was  given  at  the  board  a  famous  demonstration 
that  he  happened  to  have  been  schooled  on  time 
and  again,  and  made  a  very  creditable  recitation, 
and  though  away  down  near  the  foot  of  the  class 

Q  k  13 


146  TEOOPER  EOSS. 

in  matliematics  he,  as  lie  himself  expressed  it, 
"  wriggled  through"  somehow,  and  two  days  later 
found  himself  safely  landed  on  the  winning  side 
and  the  j^roud  possessor  of  a  pair  of  corporal's 
chevrons  so  high  up  on  the  list  as  to  make  him 
acting  sergeant  and  color-bearer  during  his  year- 
ling camj),  — the  proudest,  happiest  summer  he  had 
known  for  years. 

For  nearly  a  month  his  father  and  mother  were 
visiting  at  the  Point,  and  the  fond  creature  was 
there  at  camp  day  after  day,  eager  to  tell  of 
Koddy's  boyish  deeds  and  doings,  and  so,  much  to 
his  dismay,  many  of  the  exploits  over  which  he 
used  to  brag  at  Frayne  became  noised  about  the 
corps.  It  was  lucky  for  him  they  were  so  little 
known  in  his  plebe  camp, — that  only  vaguely  did 
the  old  cadets  understand  that  his  school  name  of 
"'Shonee,  the  Sioux  Killer,"  was  builded  upon 
certain  facts  in  his  past  career.  Warned  by  his 
father  and  Hammond,  he  had  carefully  refrained 
from  any  talk  of  his  boy  days,  and  but  for  his 
mother,  the  stories  concerning  Rod's  swimming 
the  Platte  at  nine  years  old  and  beating  back 
single-handed  the  horde  of  Indians  that  swarmed 
for  the  scalp  of  Corporal  O'Toole  might  never 
have  been  restored  to  circulation.  Now,  however, 
when  he  wished  them  buried,  he  found  they  were 
being  bruited  about,  and,  as  the  two  officers  of  the 
— th  who  were  there  gravely  declared  Mrs.  Ross's 


TROOPER  ROSS.  147 

description  entirely  free  from  exaggeration,  it  was 
conceded  among  the  visitors  at  the  hotel  and 
among  the  families  at  the  Point  that  Cadet  Color- 
Bearer  Ross  was  really  a  very  remarkable  young 
man.     But  cadets  themselves  are  sceptical. 

It  led  to  something  more,  however,  than  cadet 
notoriety. 

Bod  was  senior  corporal  of  the  guard  one  bright 
August  morning  towards  the  close  of  camp.  His 
father  had  gone  to  the  city  to  attend  to  certain 
matters  of  business  before  their  return  to  the  far 
West,  and  Mrs.  Boss,  as  was  her  custom,  had 
wandered  down  to  the  visitors'  tent  at  camp  where 
she  hoped  to  see  very  much  of  her  boy.  Several 
young  ladies  with  their  cadet  friends  were  already 
in  possession,  however,  and  Bod  was  a  trifle  shy. 
His  own  relief  was  on  post  at  the  moment,  and  he 
felt  the  full  responsibility  of  his  charge  over  those 
six  fledgling  warriors,  most  of  them  plebes,  and  he 
declined  to  remain  at  the  visitors'  tent,  but  placed 
a  camp-stool  for  his  mother  just  under  the  spread- 
ing branches  of  a  little  tree  close  by  the  first  guard 
tent,  and,  having  secured  the  consent  of  the  cadet 
first  classman  on  duty  as  ofiicer  of  the  guard, 
there  he  stood  leaning  on  his  rifle  and  listening  to 
her  questions  and  comments,  yet  all  the  time  lend- 
ing attentive  ear  for  possible  calls  from  the  sentries, 
and  occasionally  watching  the  movements  of  the 
two  who  were  visible  from  his  point  of  observation. 


148  TKOOPEK  EOSS. 

Even  other  mothers  and  other  fellows*  sisters 
among  the  groups  of  visitors  agreed  that  he  was 
a  very  manly,  presentable  young  soldier  as  he 
stood  there,  and  by  this  time,  the  stories  of  his 
swimming  the  Platte  and  scourging  the  Sioux 
being  in  full  swing,  the  eyes  of  many  were  upon 
him,  much  to  his  embarrassment,  but  more  to  his 
mother's  delight. 

The  artillery  drills  were  going  on  at  the  time, — 
the  fourth  classmen  at  the  foot  battery  south  of 
camp,  while  the  "yearlings,"  with  prodigious 
clatter  of  hoofs  and  jingling  of  chains  and  rum- 
bling of  wheels  and  stirring  bugle-blasts  and 
hoarsely  shouted  commands  and  stunning  dis- 
charges of  the  guns,  were  leaping  like  monkeys 
about  the  caissons  as  they  darted  from  one  point 
to  another,  often  lost  to  sight  in  clouds  of  dust 
and  smoke.  So  rapid  and  exciting  grew  the  drill 
at  last  that  everybody  became  absorbed  in  it,  and 
camp-stools  were  moved  almost  upon  the  sentry 
post  of  Number  One  on  the  west  front  of  camp,  and 
just  towards  the  fag  end  of  the  hour  the  battery 
instructor  started  his  dozen  spirited  teams  at  full 
gallop  from  near  the  foot  of  the  plain  and  swung 
"in  battery"  at  top  speed  just  in  front  of  camp. 
With  no  little  effort  the  caisson-drivers  reined  in 
their  horses  at  the  first  signal,  and  sliding  over 
the  gravelly  surface  gradually  came  to  a  halt  and 
began   aligning  to   the   right   as  the   dust-cloud 


TROOPEK  ROSS.  149 

lifted.  Meantime,  the  guns  had  gone  bounding 
straight  to  the  front,  and  while  the  cannoneers 
had  sprung  from  their  seats  on  the  caissons  and 
gone  sprinting  to  their  stations  on  the  new  line, 
the  gun  teams,  still  at  full  gallop,  essayed  to  whirl 
about,  describing  their  loop  at  the  same  instant, 
and  only  reining  up  long  enough  to  permit  the 
gunners  to  unlimber  and  cry  "  Drive  on,"  then 
drop  the  trails  of  the  guns  so  as  to  throw  the 
muzzles  straight  to  the  front  and  open  fire.  It 
was  a  race  to  see  which  gun  would  be  the  first  to 
blaze  away,  and  a  race  such  as  one  can  rarely  see 
the  like  of  unless  it  be  among  the  Cossack  bat- 
teries of  Kussia.  If  a  cadet  hadn't  as  many  lives 
as  a  dozen  cats  some  of  their  number  would  be 
killed  every  day. 

Now,  as  luck  would  have  it  on  this  particular 
morning  some  of  the  children  from  the  ofiicers' 
quarters  had  brought  over  to  camp  a  number  of 
little  friends  who  were  summering  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  Point.  Children  reared  in  a  garrison 
speedily  learn  the  military  rules  and  regulations 
and  more  readily  observe  them,  perhaps,  than 
they  do  those  which  are  entirely  parental.  City- 
bred  boys  and  girls,  however,  are  less  apt  to  do 
so,  and  there  were  three  youngsters  of  twelve  or 
fourteen  in  the  party  who  seemed  crazed  with 
desire  to  "show  off"  before  their  friends  and  to 
place  themselves  in   some  position  of  imminent 

13* 


150  TKOOPER   ROSS. 

danger.  Twice  had  Kod  as  corporal  of  the  guard 
been  com^Delled  to  warn  these  little  men  that  they 
could  not  be  allowed  to  run  out  on  the  plain  in 
front  of  the  guns,  but,  boylike,  they  looked  upon 
his  objections  as  officious  interference.  The  officer 
of  the  guard,  a  swell  young  first  classman,  was 
seated  on  a  camp-stool  chatting  with  an  elder  and 
very  pretty  sister  of  one  of  the  boys  referred  to, 
and  he,  too,  noting  her  anxiety,  had  remon- 
strated with  the  lad,  but  not  in  a  manner  to 
make  much  impression.  He  was  too  desirous 
of  pleasing  the  entire  family  to  venture  on 
offending  a  juvenile  brother.  Mrs.  Koss  was 
talking  eagerly  with  her  boy  as  the  battery  came 
thundering  up  the  plain,  and  all  of  a  sudden 
there  came  a  scream  of  mortal  terror, — "  Larry  ! 
Larry  !  Come  back  !"  and  the  young  lady  sprang 
to  her  feet  and  was  stretching  out  her  helpless 
arms  to  the  graceless  rascal  of  a  brother,  who,  fol- 
lowed by  an  admiring  friend,  was  dancing  out 
upon  the  glaring,  gravelly  surface  directly  in 
front  of  the  galloping  teams.  Before  Mrs.  Koss 
realized  the  trouble.  Rod  had  dropped  his  rifle, 
and,  springing  out  beyond  the  group  of  specta- 
tors, he  swooped  down  upon  the  pair,  and  collaring 
both,  a  muscular  hand  to  each,  he  half  pushed, 
half  dragged  them  out  of  the  way,  and  not  an 
instant  too  soon.  The  right  gun  of  the  battery, 
whirling  around,  nearly  rolling  over  as  it  did  so, 


Collaring  both,  a  nmscular  hand  to  each,  he  half  pushed,  half 
dragged  then^  out  of  the  way. 


TROOPEK   ROSS.  151 

dashed  by  within  three  feet  of  his  kicking,  strug- 
gling captives,  and  but  for  his  prompt  action 
there  is  little  doubt  that,  bewildered  by  the  un- 
looked-for rush  of  the  team  to  its  right  as  it 
swung  into  battery,  the  two  venturesome  young- 
sters would  have  been  run  down.  As  it  was, 
like  most  other  boys  when  summarily  joounced 
upon  in  public  and  interrupted  in  some  prank, 
they  were  furious  at  being  placed  in  so  ridiculous 
a  light,  and  one  of  them,  bursting  into  tears  and 
impetuous  sj)eech,  declared  that  his  father  would 
make  it  hot  for  Hod  when  he  came  up  next  day, 
and  used  further  language  that  spoke  ill  for  the 
educational  advantages  of  Murray  Hill. 

But  the  pretty  sister  was  profuse  in  her  thanks, 
and  came  over  to  Mrs.  Ross,  who  was  a  nerveless 
witness  of  the  affair,  to  express  her  gratitude  and 
to  beg  that  they  pay  no  attention  to  Larry's 
furious  outbreak.  Larry  and  his  equally  abused 
but  far  more  reasonable  companion  had  by  this 
time  dried  their  tears  and  started  for  the  omnibus 
up  by  the  hotel,  and  the  next  thing  noticed  of 
them  they  were  in  lively  conversation  with  a 
portly  lady  who  drove  up  in  a  carriage. 

How  many  times  out  of  ten,  when  a  boy  goes  to 
tell  his  story  of  wrongs  to  his  devoted  mother, 
does  he  tell  the  truth  ?  When  Master  Lawrence 
Farwell's  mother  alighted  from  her  carriage  that 
eventful  morning  and  started  for  camp  it  was  with 


152  TROOPER  ROSS. 

the  avowed  intention  of  appealing  to  the  command- 
ant of  cadets  and  having  Cadet  Corporal  Ross 
reduced  to  the  ranks  in  general  orders  that  very 
night  at  parade  for  brutal  assault  and  inexcusable 
violence  towards  her  precious  boy.  Larry  had 
declared  he  was  just  doing  nothing,  only  standing 
there  looking  on  at  the  drill,  when  that  mean,  in- 
terfering Mr.  Koss  ran  out  and  grabbed  him  and 
hit  him  and  choked  him  and  shoved  him  right  in 
front  of  all  the  people,  and  he  wouldn't  stand  it. 

Meantime,  another  mother  had  been  crooning 
over  her  boy,  and  that  was  Mrs.  Koss.  Rod  him- 
self knew  perfectly  well  that  he  was  in  no  personal 
peril.  He  had  been  to  light  battery  drill  time 
and  again,  knew  just  where  the  horses  and  guns 
would  turn  and  twist  and  just  how  to  avoid  them. 
He  knew  he  had  done  nothing  heroic.  If  any- 
thing, he  was  troubled  because  he  had  had  to  dart 
out  there  before  all  that  crowd  and  run  those 
struggling  youngsters  out  of  harm's  way,  but  Mrs. 
Ross  thought  otherwise.  In  her  mind  her  boy 
had  performed  an  act  of  signal  bravery  and  de- 
votion, had  saved  two  lives  at  the  imminent  peril 
of  his  own,  and  should  be  crowned  with  laurels  or 
awarded  the  cross  of  honor  and  named  in  General 
Orders  because  of  it.  She  never  thought  to  look 
where  the  disgusted  Larry  had  gone.  She  never 
dreamed  that  by  any  human  possibility  could 
there  be  found  a  single  human  being  to  entertain 


TROOPER  ROSS.  153 

an  opposing  view.  Already  she  was  picturing  to 
herself,  as  she  eagerly  questioned  Rod  as  to 
whether  he  was  sure,  sure  he  had  received  no 
injury,  how  beautiful  it  would  all  be  at  parade 
that  night  when  the  ringing  voice  of  the  cadet  ad- 
jutant should  proclaim  to  the  statue-like  battalion 
and  to  the  hundreds  of  visitors  the  promotion  of 
Cadet  Corporal  Ross  for  heroic  conduct  during 
battery  drill  that  morning.  Already  she  had 
received  not  a  few  congratulations,  and  Rod, 
blushing,  awkward,  and  confused,  was  striving  to 
get  away,  when  there  suddenly  appeared  an  anger- 
ing woman  on  the  scene,  and  in  tones  never  to  be 
forgotten  these  words  fell  upon  the  ears  of  all : 

"  Is  this  the  young  man  who  has  dared  to  assault 
my  son  ?" 

In  an  instant  the  young  lady  had  interposed. 
"  Mother  !"  she  cried.  "  Indeed,  indeed,  you  have 
been  misinformed !  Indeed,  if  you  had  seen  what 
Larry  was  doing " 

"That  will  do,  child,"  was  the  imperious 
anwer.  "  You  always  take  sides  against  your 
brother.  I  have  heard.  I  shall  go  to  the  com- 
mandant with  my  demand  for  justice." 

And  a  very  lively  and  exciting  scene  was  sud- 
denly precipitated  upon  a  large  and  deeply  inter- 
ested array  of  visitors,  many  of  whom,  knowing 
Mrs.  Ross,  were  only  wondering  what  she  would 
say  when  sufficiently  recovered  from  her  amazement 


154  TKOOPER  EOSS. 

to  say  anything  at  all.  But  before  tliat  lady  could 
open  her  lips  another  voice,  a  very  quiet  one,  but 
most  authoritative,  was  heard,  and  there,  just  dis- 
mounted from  his  horse,  looking  somewhat  warm 
from  the  drill,  but  s]3eaking  very  coolly  all  the 
same,  there  stood  the  young  battery  commander 
and  instructor. 

"I  am  commandant  to-day,  Mrs.  Farwell,  in 

the  absence  of  Colonel  H ,"  said  he,  "and  as  I 

saw  the  whole  occurrence,  will  you  j^ermit  me  to 
say  that  the  promptness  of  Mr.  Koss  was  all  that 
saved  your  boy  from  being  run  over,  and  I  shall 
so  inform  both  the  commandant  and  Mr.  Farwell 
when  they  return  to-morrow.  I  had  dismounted 
to  congratulate  Mrs.  Ross.  May  I  not  tender  my 
congratulations  also  to  you  ?" 

Buster  always  thought  Lieutenant a  rather 

cold,  unappreciative  officer,  but  that  day  he  could 
have  hugged  him,  so  could  his  mother,  but  Mrs. 
Farwell,  poor  woman,  was  utterly  at  a  loss  now 
what  to  say  or  do. 

"  I  do  not  comprehend,"  she  began,  but  then  a 
dozen  voices  chimed  in,  of  men  and  women 
witnesses  of  the  affair,  all  bent  on  pointing  out  to 
her  how  utterly  she  had  been  misinformed  and 
how  great  was  Larry's  peril  when  rescued.  And 
in  the  midst  of  the  clatter  Rod  begged  his  indig- 
nant mother  to  come  away,  and  led  her  flushed 
and  almost  tearful  to  the  visitors'  tent.     Later  in 


TKOOPEK  ROSS.  155 

the  day  she  declined  to  see  Mrs.  Farwell  when 
that  lady  sent  up  her  card. 

But  this  trifling  incident,  which  caused  no  little 
laughing  comment  among  the  visitors  to  the  Point, 
was  destined  to  weave  quite  an  important  part  in 
Rod's  future.  The  very  next  evening,  just  as  he 
was  donning  his  belts  .ind  shako  for  parade,  the 
commandant's  orderly  summoned  him  to  head- 
quarters. There  at  the  entrance  to  the  big  mar- 
quee sai  Colonel  H with  the  artillery  lieuten- 
ant and  a  third  gentleman,  a  gray-whiskered, 
keen-eyed  civilian,  who  arose  as  Rod  halted  at  the 
prescribed  distance  and  raised  his  hand  in  salute. 
The  commandant,  too,  arose  from  his  chair  and, 
extending  his  hand,  said,  in  the  kind  way  that  was 
habitual  with  him, — 

"  I  wish  to  add  my  commendation  to  that  you 
have  already  received,  Mr.  Ross,  for  your  prompt 
action  during  battery  drill  yesterday  morning; 
and  here  is  a  gentleman  who  desires  to  thank  you 
in  his  own  name, — Mr.  Farwell." 

Whereupon  the  civilian  cordially  took  Rod's 
hand  in  both  his  own  and  said,  "  You  rendered 
me  a  very  great  service,  sir,  and  taught  my  boy  a 
much  needed  lesson,  and  I  am  very  grateful  to 
you  and  very  sorry  to  learn  that  in  her  agitation 
my  wife  said  some  utterly  unjustifiable  things. 
Lawrence  is  our  only  boy,  our  baby  in  fact,  and 
has  been  sadly  spoiled,  but  I  hope  you  can  make 


156  TROOPER  ROSS. 

some  allowance  for  his  mother.  When  you  are 
older  you'll  find  that  many  others  are  apt  to 
attach  undue  weight  to  the  doings  or  sayings  of 
an  only  son." 

And  Eod  felt  the  blushes  surging  up  to  his 
temples  again.  He  had  begun  to  realize  the  force 
of  that  statement  already. 

Before  Captain  Koss  left  for  the  West,  however, 
a  cordial  understanding  and  regard  had  sprung 
up  between  Mr.  Farwell,  Rod,  and  himself,  despite 
the  fact  that  the  two  ladies  maintained  towards 
each  other  an  awful  severity  of  mien  when  they 
happened  to  meet. 

"  There  may  come  a  time  when  I  can  be  of  ser- 
vice to  you,  Roderick,"  said  the  New  Yorker, 
"and  if  it  should  so  happen,  command  me.  In 
any  event  I  shall  not  lose  sight  of  you."  And, 
oddly  enough,  the  time  came. 

Although  of  different  classes,  Hammond  and 
Rod  had  planned  to  room  together  when  the 
former  should  return  from  cadet  furlough  and  bar- 
rack life  again  begin.  The  mathematical  course 
of  the  third  class  year  was  one  to  which  Rod 
looked  forward  with  keen  anxiety,  but  with  Ham- 
mond to  coach  and  aid  him  there  would  be  less  to 
fear.  As  luck  would  have  it,  however,  the  list  of 
cadet  officers  was  revised  the  day  after  the  fur- 
lough class  returned,  and  Hammond,  to  his  sur- 
prise and  delight,  was  raised  to  the  rank  of  first 


TKOOPEK  ROSS.  157 

sergeant  of  tlie  second  company,  or  Company 
"  B."  The  drill  regulations  of  Upton  were  still  in 
vogue  and  the  cadets  were  assigned  according  to 
size,  and  Rod,  who  had  shot  up  like  a  weed,  was 
one  of  the  tall,  muscular  athletes  assigned  to  Com- 
pany "D"  on  the  extreme  left.  Nor  could  he 
induce  any  of  the  corporals  of  Company  "A"  to 
exchange  with  him.  As  first  sergeant  of  "B" 
Hammond  had  to  room  in  the  third  or  fourth 
division  of  barracks,  while  Rod,  much  to  his  dis- 
appointment, although  he  had  been  raised  a  peg 
or  two  higher  on  the  list  of  corporals,  and  was 
now  third  in  rank,  had  to  go  over  to  the  far  west 
wing  and  take  for  a  room-mate  a  handsome,  reck- 
less, daring,  but  absolutely  unbalanced  fellow 
whose  academic  days  were  surely  numbered. 

Poor  Rod !  He  studied  as  best  he  knew  how. 
He  worked  hard  and  faithfully.  He  grew  pale 
and  weary-eyed,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  "  Analyt- 
ical" was  too  much  for  him,  and  his  marks  were 
as  low  as  his  face  was  long,  so  low  that  despite 
excellent  conduct,  fine  soldierly  bearing,  and  a 
fair  standing  in  other  studies,  nothing  but  abso- 
lutely perfect  work  at  examination  would  save 
him.  The  story  is  too  sad,  yet  too  well  known. 
Dozens  of  ambitious  and  earnest  young  fellows 
have  found  themselves  unable  to  master  the  intri- 
cacies of  mathematics,  and,  yielding  to  the  inex- 
orable law,  have  had  to  fall  out.     Rod's  instruc- 

14 


158  TROOPEK  ROSS. 

tor  did  his  best  by  him,  and  Kod  showed  himself 
grateful  and  appreciative,  but  only  by  the  narrow- 
est squeeze  was  he  carried  through  the  gate  in 
January, — his  room-mate  laughingly  accepting  his 
own  deficiency  as  a  matter  of  course  and,  with 
half  a  dozen  other  third  classmen,  doffing  the 
cadet  dress  and  donning  "  cits"  once  more,  while 
Rod,  with  Calculus  to  cheer  him  up  the  hill  to 
June,  faced  at  the  foot  of  his  class  that  still  harder 
subject,  but  with  hardly  a  grain  of  hope  or  confi- 
dence in  the  result. 

"Turned  back  to  join  the  new  third  class  in 
September,"  was  the  decision  of  the  Board  in 
Rod's  case  in  June,  and  he  went  on  cadet  fur- 
lough in  anything  but  bright  spirits.  His  father 
and  mother  were  still  in  the  far  West  and  they 
welcomed  him  lovingly  and  strove  to  comfort  him, 
the  one  with  the  belief  that  another  year  would 
enable  him  to  triumj^h  over  the  difficulties  of  the 
course,  the  other  with  the  characteristic  assurance 
that  the  fault  lay  solely  with  his  instructors.  But 
Rod  had  grown  older  and  wiser  and  had  his  own 
views.  The  young  officers,  recent  graduates,  en- 
deavored to  encourage  him,  and  were  surprised  at 
his  lack  of  faith.  In  his  other  studies  he  showed 
the  effect  of  his  earnest  work,  and  his  knowledge 
of  the  practical  side  of  drill  regulations  made  him 
quite  their  equal  if  not,  in  some  cases,  their 
superior,  for  Rod  was  soldier,  as  has  been   said, 


TEOOPER  ROSS.  159 

every  incli  of  liim.  "  It  seems  a  shame  to  think 
we  can't  have  him  in  the  cavalry,"  was  what  more 
than  one  officer  was  heard  to  say,  as  they  watched 
Rod's  easy  seat  and  practised  horsemanship,  and 
perhaps  the  father  thought  so  too,  though  he 
uttered  no  complaint.  "  Do  your  best,  my  boy. 
No  man  on  earth  can  do  more.  Master  that 
mathematical  course  if  you  can,  but  if  you  can't," 
— and  here  with  moistening  eyes  the  veteran 
soldier  took  his  stalwart  boy  by  the  shoulder  and 
turned  him  squarely  towards  him, — "  if  you  can't. 
Rod,  come  back  home  to  your  mother  and  to  me 
and  we'll  welcome  you  lovingly  as  ever." 

Rod  hesitated  a  moment  before  replying ;  then 
raising  his  head,  he  looked  his  father  full  in  the 
face. 

"  I  used  to  think  I  could  be  content  to  come 
back  and  start  a  ranch  out  here  somewhere,  but 
that's  all  in  the  past,  father.  I  know  there's  only 
one  thing  to  suit  me,  and  that  is  the  cavalry,  and  if 
I  can't  win  it  through  the  Point  there's  yet  another 
way.     I  shall  try,  father — from  the  ranks." 


CHAPTER  X. 

Another  year  went  by  with  Buster,  now  a  stal- 
wart fellow  nearly  six  feet  tall  and  as  sinewy  and 
active  as  any  Indian.  Bravely  and  patiently  lie 
stood  to  liis  work,  mourning  not  a  little  over  the 
enforced  separation  from  his  original  classmates, 
with  whom  he  was  deservedly  popular,  yet  striving 
to  make  himself  at  home  among  the  new.  This 
year  he  worked  well  up  among  the  "  teens"  of  the 
class  in  general  standing  and  passed  the  June 
examination  with  comparative  ease,  though  still 
far  down  in  mathematics.  Again  his  father  and 
mother  spent  a  portion  of  the  summer  near  him 
during  camp,  and  Rod  was  one  of  the  first  ser- 
geants of  the  battalion  and  a  very  efficient  cadet 
non-commissioned  officer.  Again  they  left  him 
with  loving  wishes  and  fond  anticipation,  but  Rod 
and  his  father  both  fully  understood  that  the 
most  trying  year  of  the  course  was  ahead  of  him, 
and  that  many  a  lively  young  soldier,  hopeful  and 

160 


TEOOPER  EOSS.  Ifil 

over-confident  after  his  successful  passage  of  the 
middle  barrier,  had  been  tripped  and  thrown  by 
"mechanics"  and  chemistry  in  the  second  class 
year. 

The  autumn,  sad  and  sombre,  yielded  to  the 
early  snows  of  winter,  and  the  days  grew  shorter 
and  shorter  as  the  Christmas  holidays  came  on ;  so, 
too,  grew  Rod's  letters.  "  I  cannot  do  more,"  he 
wrote.  "I  have  been  hoping  against  hope  and 
struggling  against  fate.  I  have  no  head  for  mathe- 
matics. It  was  mistaken  kindness  to  let  me  try 
again  last  year.  It  only  prolonged  the  fight  and 
set  me  back  still  farther  in  the  race  for  a  commis- 
sion. My  class — my  own  class — will  graduate  in 
a  little  over  six  months  and  be  lieutenants  in  the 
army  by  the  end  of  June.  Well,  come  what  may, 
I'll  be  in  the  army  too." 

The  Ross's  were  far  across  the  continent  now. 
The  old  regiment  had  gone  to  the  Pacific  slope,  and 
they  had  drunk  Rod's  health  and  happiness  on  his 
twenty-first  birthday  just  as  the  first  snows  were 
mantling  the  bold  heights  about  the  Point,  while 
the  sun  still  beat  warm  and  ruddy  about  the  adobe 
walls  of  old  Camp  Sandy  in  Apacheland.  The 
captain  was  growing  very  gray  and  wrinkled,  and 
looking  eagerly  forward  to  the  promotion  so  long 
due  him  and  to  release  from  the  exactions  of  troop 
duty.  He  strove  hard  to  control  his  anxiety  as 
January  came  and  to  believe  that  Rod  might  still 
I  14* 


162  TROOPER  ROSS. 

succeed,  but  Kod  himself  would  hold  out  no  hopes 
and  Hammond  was  ominously  silent. 

One  night,  just  as  the  trumpets  were  sound- 
ing tattoo  and  a  soft  wind  was  whispering  up  the 
deep  sheltered  valley  from  the  sand  wastes  far  to 
the  south,  a  messenger  from  the  telegraph-office 
entered  with  the  fateful  brown  envelope  in  his 
hand,  and  Captain  Ross  took  it,  read,  and  walked 
out  into  the  dark.  Mrs.  Ross  was  visiting  some- 
where among  the  neighbors. 

This  was  all  it  said : 

"Enlisted  for  the  cavalry  to-day.  I'll  win  it 
yet." 

No  word  of  repining,  no  word  of  reproach  to  any 
one,  no  word  of  the  wrench  it  must  have  cost  to 
say  good-by  to  all  that  throng  of  stanch,  soldierly 
comrades  with  whom  he  had  lived  and  worked 
and  hoped  for  more  than  three  long  years;  no 
word  of  disappointment,  nothing  but  pluck  and 
cheer  and  manful  determination,  and  the  old 
soldier  bowed  his  head  upon  his  arm  as  he  leaned 
on  the  gallery  overlooking  the  dark  lowlands  at 
his  feet  where  rushed  the  flowing  river,  and  over 
the  waste  of  leagues  and  leagues  that  separated 
him  from  his  only  son  his  heart  went  out  in  yearn- 
ing, in  pity  and  compassion  and  tenderness  un- 
speakable, for  all  the  sorrow  and  disappointment 
that  had  been  the  boy's  lot,  but  in  pride  and  love 
ten  times  as  great  because  of  the  manful  accept- 


TKOOPEK  KOSS.  163 

ance  of  his  fate.  "  Quit  you  like  men ;  be  strong," 
was  the  text  that  had  inspired  Koss's  own  rugged, 
honest,  God-fearing  life.  It  was  a  heartbreak  to 
think  of  the  three  years  and  a  half  spent  in  cadet 
gray  striving  for  the  blue  and  finding  only  fail- 
ure at  the  end,  but  not  one  hour  had  been  wasted 
or  thrown  away.  Rod  would  be  all  the  better 
equipped  for  the  race  in  the  new  field.  For  weal 
or  woe  it  mattered  not,  the  boy  had  indeed  ac- 
quitted himself  like  a  man, — ^had  indeed  been 
strong. 

They  were  gathered  in  the  club  room,  quite  a 
party  of  the  officers  that  night,  when  Koss  came 
in,  an  unusual  thing  for  him,  and  the  steward,  at 
his  bidding,  set  fresh  glasses  and  filled  them  with 
sparkling  wine,  and  chat  and  laughter  ceased,  for 
the  senior  captain's  face  was  grave. 

"  We  drank  my  boy's  health  a  few  weeks  back," 
he  said,  "  and  wished  him  speedy  promotion,  and 
you'll  all  bear  me  out  in  saying  he  has  done  his 
duty  like  a  man.  He'll  be  none  the  worse  for 
cavalry  drill,  my  friends,  because  he  couldn't  fully 
grasp  the  mechanism  of  molecules.  One  of  these 
days  he  may  be  one  of  us,  but  for  the  time  being 
he  means  to  fight  his  own  way."  There  was  a 
choke  in  his  voice  as  he  finished.  "  Let  us  drink 
to  Trooper  Ross." 

And  so  another  year  went  by,  and  neither  by 
the  old  regiment  nor  by  the  lads  in  gray  at  the 


164  TROOPER  ROSS. 

Point  was  Shoshonee  seen  again.  Lovingly  they 
often  talked  of  him  in  the  brief  half-hour  of 
recreation  that  followed  supper,  and  many  a  cadet 
— first  and  second  classmen  both — would  gladly 
have  reopened  communication  with  him,  but  Rod 
did  not  write.  For  several  months,  indeed,  no  one 
knew  just  where  he  was.  He  had  enlisted  in  New 
York  City  immediately  after  receiving  his  dis- 
charge,— a  ceremony  that  cost  the  adjutant  of  the 
Academy  the  saddest  hour  he  had  known  in  years. 
He  had  given  their  final  papers  to  dozens  of 
deficient  cadets  at  every  examination  for  three 
years  past,  but  Kod's  pale  face  and  uncomplaining 
sorrow  were  too  much  for  him. 

"I  couldn't  feel  worse  if  it  were  myself,  Mr. 
Eoss,"  he  said,  as  he  took  Rod  by  the  hand. 

"Well,  you'll  bear  me  out  in  this,  sir,  then," 
was  Rod's  reply.  "No  man  can  say  I  haven't 
done  my  best." 

They  tried  to  find  out  to  what  post  he  had  been 
sent,  but  the  recruiting  officer  replied  that  young 
Ross  had  asked  that  no  information  be  given. 
But  when  next  October  came  the  corps  were  kept 
no  longer  in  ignorance.  A  letter  was  received 
from  Lieutenant  Hammond,  graduated  only  in 
June  and  assigned  to  the  — th,  with  station  far  out 
in  Wyoming. 

"  I  joined  my  troop  in  the  Black  Hills,  march- 
ing home  a  week  ago,"  wrote  he,  "  and  three  days 


TKOOrEPv  KOSS.  165 

later  I  went  on  as  officer  of  the  guard.  That 
night,  late,  a  courier  rode  into  camp  with  de- 
spatches, and  I  sprang  up  from  a  doze  to  receive 
him.  The  firelight  flickered  on  his  face  as  he 
stood  there  by  his  horse's  head,  dusty,  travel- 
stained,  but  straight  as  an  arrow,  and  neither  dust 
nor  a  fuzzy  beard  could  disguise  him.  As  I 
ste^^ped  towards  him  with  outstretched  hand,  he 
drew  back  a  half  pace  and  whipped  his  hand  up 
to  his  hat-brim  and  ground  his  heels  together.  '  I 
am  Corporal  Ross,  sir,'  said  he.  '  You're  that  and 
more  too,  dear  old  man,'  I  cried,  and  had  my  arms 
around  him  in  a  minute.  You  should  have  seen 
the  guard  stare,  but  they  understood  it  all  soon 
enough.  Shoshonee  is  a  corporal  in  Captain  Ray's 
troop  and  a  candidate  for  commission,  and  he'll  get 
it  yet,  for  Ray  says  there  isn't  a  better  trooper  in 
his  whole  outfit,  and  if  there's  a  captain  in  the 
cavalry  that  knows  a  trooper  when  he  sees  one,  it's 
that  same  Ray." 

Two  years  as  a  non-commissioned  officer  must  a 
soldier  serve  before  he  can  hope  to  change  the 
chevron  for  the  shoulder-strap,  and  another  year 
still  had  Rod  to  ride  boot  to  boot  with  the  rough- 
est fellows  in  the  ranks  ;  but  no  favor  did  he  ask, 
— no  help  from  anybody.  Once  in  a  while  there 
came  fond  letters  from  his  father,  now  a  major  of 
cavalry,  serving  in  a  distant  field.  Every  week 
there  came  fond,  sometimes  foolish,  letters  from  his 


166  TROOPEE  ROSS* 

mother,  and  Rod  welcomed  them  tenderly,  and 
stowed  them  away  in  his  little  barrack  box  and 
went  silently,  sturdily,  on  his  way.  He  was  the 
crack  "  rough  rider"  in  his  troop,  a  superb  gym- 
nast and  drill  instructor,  and  Captain  Kay's  re- 
cruits somehow  or  other,  were  *'  licked  into  shape" 
quicker  than  those  of  any  other  company,  and  it 
was  well  understood  that  nothing  but  the  fact  that 
Ray  had  no  vacancy  kept  Shoshonee  still  a  cor- 
poral. "  Ross  is  sure  of  a  sergeantcy  before  the 
end  of  his  term,"  said  the  men,  but  the  time  came, 
and  came  soon,  when  sergeant's  chevrons,  even, 
were  not  considered. 

Our  story  opened  one  night  in  June  within  the 
walls  of  old  Fort  Frayne.  Many  a  change  had 
been  wrought  in  the  personnel  of  the  post.  Of  all 
the  men  we  met  and  knew  in  the  eventful  Centen- 
nial year  of  '76  not  one  was  stationed  at  the  fort 
when,  some  fourteen  years  later,  there  broke  out 
among  the  Sioux  Indians  gathered  at  the  great 
reservations  to  the  east  what  was  called  "  the 
Messiah  craze."  Indians  have  their  beliefs  as  have 
other  men,  and  far  and  wide  among  the  villages 
of  the  red  men  from  the  Missouri  to  the  Pacific 
had  been  carried  by  runners  and  preached  by 
medicine-men  the  story  of  the  second  coming  of 
the  Son  of  the  Great  Spirit, — an  Indian  God  who 
was  to  restore  to  the  faithful  among  his  peoj)le  the 
dominion  of  the  wide  waste  of  lands  wrested  from 


TEOOPER  ROSS.  167 

them  by  tlie  pale-faces,  who  was  to  lead  them  iii  a 
war  of  extermination  of  the  whites,  and,  once  and 
for  all  time,  make  the  Indian  lord  of  the  Western 
world.  Indian  worshij)  takes  its  form  in  weird  and 
uncouth  dances,  and  the  nights  were  red  with  the 
reflection  of  the  dance-fires  set  in  every  village  far 
and  near,  and,  despite  the  efforts  of  their  wiser 
chiefs,  young  men  and  old,  the  warriors  of  the 
great  Dakota  nation  left  the  agencies  and  took  to 
the  war-path,  convinced  that  the  time  had  come  for 
the  final  battle.  All  on  a  sudden,  after  years  of 
comparative  peace,  a  general  war  was  forced  upon 
the  frontier,  and  again  the  cavalry  were  hurried  to 
the  once  familiar  fields,  and  among  the  first  troops 
to  cross  the  Platte  was  "  Buster's." 

It  was  midwinter.  The  snow  was  deep  in  the 
mountains.  There  had  been  a  thaw  in  the  Park 
country  of  Colorado,  and  the  Platte  was  running 
bank  full  and  whirling  huge  cakes  of  ice  thick 
spread  upon  its  turbid  flood.  The  garrison  of 
Fort  Frayne  had  marched  some  forty  miles  up- 
stream before  finding  a  crossing,  and  their  trail 
through  the  snow-drifts  was  still  fresh  when  the 
squadron  of  the  — th,  led  by  Captain  Kay,  reached 
the  post  after  a  long  day's  march  through  the 
passes  of  the  Medicine  Bow.  All  that  was  known 
of  the  Indians  was  that,  after  "jumping"  the 
agency,  they  had  fled  westward  up  the  valley  of 
the  Cheyenne,  killing,  burning,  and  destroying  as 


168  TROOPEE  EOSS. 

they  went.  It  was  hoped  that  the  command  from 
Frayne  might  intercept  them  and  recapture  the 
women  and  children  the  Indians  were  carrying 
away.  It  was  to  reinforce  that  little  command 
that  Captain  Kay  had  been  hurried  to  the  front. 
Reaching  the  military  reservation  of  Fort  Frayne 
an  hour  before  nightfall,  the  captain  had  ordered 
the  four  troops  under  his  command  to  bivouac  on 
the  flats  to  the  west  of  the  post,  and  be  ready  to 
march  at  dawn.  Other  captains  might  have  put 
their  horses  into  the  abandoned  stables  and  their 
men  into  the  vacant  barracks,  but  not  Ray.  That 
would  be  a  distinct  "  let  down"  from  the  necessities 
of  the  campaign.  Men  and  horses  both  were  out 
to  rough  it.  But  he  sent  in  for  any  mail  that 
might  have  been  received,  and  about  eight  o'clock 
in  the  evening  a  young  officer  came  over  to  the 
shelter-tents  of  Captain  Ray's  own  troop  and 
asked  for  Corporal  Ross.  The  first  sergeant 
sprang  up  and  stood  attention,  ankle-deep  in 
snow,  and  looked  about  him.  "  He's  down  at  the 
picket  line  most  like,  sir,"  said  he.  "  I'll  send  for 
him."  And  a  trumpeter  went  on  the  run  to  where 
the  troop  horses,  tethered  at  the  rope,  were  munch- 
ing their  hay  and  wondering  whether  they  could 
lie  down  in  that  cold  white  blanket,  and  there, 
rubbing  his  charger's  legs,  was  Buster.  The  men 
wondered  why  he  called  that  bay  troop  horse 
"Bep." 


TKOOPER  ROSS.  169 

"  Loot'n't  Hammond  wants  you,  corporal,"  said 
the  trumpeter,  anxious  not  to  be  too  polite,  as  this 
was  a  candidate  for  commission;  and  Buster 
quickly  arose  and  went  ploughing  through  the 
snow  to  where  a  camp-fire  was  burning  in  front 
of  the  sergeant's  tent.  At  sight  of  Hammond, 
his  old  playmate  and  friend,  he  halted,  stood  at- 
tention, and  raised  his  hand  in  salute.  The 
salute  was  as  gravely  and  precisely  returned,  and 
then  the  lieutenant  spoke.  I  wish  I  had  the 
power  of  conveying  his  very  tone,  first  officially 
dignified,  then  characteristically,  impetuously  af- 
fectionate. 

"  Corporal,  I  sent  for  you  because  you  ought  to 
see  this  paper.  Our  friend  Mr.  Farwell  has  gone 
to  Washington  as  senator.  Now,  Rod,  old  boy, 
we'll  have  that  commission  !"  And  roughly-clad, 
roughly-bearded  troopers  saw  the  lieutenant  hold 
forth  an  eager  hand.  It  did  not  surprise  them. 
They  had  seen  him  slap  that  same  corporal  on  the 
back.  They  knew  the  story  of  the  two  by  this 
time. 

But  Rod  was  true  to  his  name  and  stood  bolt 
upright,  and  unbent  not  a  whit. 

"  Even  a  senator  can't  pull  a  man  up  from  the 
ranks  except  in  accordance  with  law  nowadays, 
sir,"  said  he,  "  and  I  wouldn't  ask  it  if  he  could, 
— until  I'd  done  something  to  deserve  it." 

"  Well,  your  chance  '11  be  here  soon  enough,  or 

H  15 


170  TROOPER  ROSS. 

I'm  a  duffer.  Rod,  old  boy,  you  don't  have  any 
grounders  to  stop  these  days.  What  if  the  war 
game  gave  us  both  a  chance  for  a  double  play  for 
the  honors  of  old  Rockford  ?" 

"  Then  I'd  jump  at  the  chance,  higher  than  I 
had  to  jump  for  that  red-hot  liner  the  day  we 
larruped  Urbana,"  was  the  answer. 

Just  as  the  wintry  dawn  was  breaking  over  the 
far  eastward  hills.  Captain  Ray  was  roused  by  a 
messenger,  and  the  messenger  brought  direful 
tidings.  The  Indians,  quitting  the  valley  of  the 
South  Cheyenne,  were  raiding  that  of  the  Dry 
Fork  as  they  pursued  their  swift  and  untrammelled 
flight,  and  word  must  be  got  to  Colonel  Farrar, 
who  had  gone  out  at  the  head  of  the  Frayne 
squadrons,  and  who  was  probably  now  marching 
eastward  perhaps  forty  miles  away  to  the  north  of 
Ray's  bivouac  in  the  snow.  "  Well,  who,"  said 
Ray,  pointing  to  the  ice-tossing  river,  roaring  be- 
tween its  frozen  banks,  "  who  could  possibly  cross 
that  stream  and  intercept  the  colonel  ?  The  best 
we  can  do  is  to  send  our  lightest  riders  out  on  an 
eighty-mile  stern  chase,  crossing  forty  miles  above 
here  where  they  did." 

Dozens  of  the  men  were  already  up  and  eagerly 
listening,  and  one  of  these  sprang  forward  and 
stood  boot-deep  in  the  snow  before  his  captain. 

"  I'm  your  man,  sir." 

"  You  ?    Why,  Corporal  Ross !    Oh !  I  remem- 


TKOOPER  KOSS.  171 

ber,  this  is  your  old  stamping-ground,  and  I  know 
your  pluck,  but,  great  Scott !  I  can't  risk  one  of 
my  best  men  with  one  of  my  best  horses  on  any 
such  mad  attempt.  The  ice  would  crush  you  and 
your  horse  both." 

"  Wait  till  it's  lighter  and  I'll  show  the  captain 
where  I  crossed  on  a  boy  pony  when  I  was  only 
nine,  when  the  water  was  just  as  high,  though 
there  wasn't  any  ice.  Now  we've  got  the  ice  to 
contend  with,  but  we  have  size  and  strength  and 
determination  to  oppose  against  that.  Meantime, 
have  I  the  captain's  permission  to  get  ready  ?"  and 
Rod's  fingers  and  lips  were  twitching  in  his  eager- 
ness and  hope. 

Then  Captain  Kay  sprang  up  and  held  out  his 
hand.  Troopers  do  not  always  use  the  choicest 
language  on  the  frontier.  They  know  too  many 
moments  of  intense  excitement. 

"  My  God,  Corporal  "Ross,"  said  this  Kentucky 
soldier,  "  I  made  a  ride  away  down  yonder  on  the 
South  Cheyenne  the  same  summer  you  made  your 
first  trip,  and  it  counted  for  something,  too,  at  the 
time,  but  compared  with  what  you're  going  to  try 
right  up  here  it  wasn't  a  ride  worth  mentioning. 
You're  just  a  man  after  my  own  heart,  sir,  and 
you  shan't  be  balked,  sir, — you  shan't  be  balked !" 

And  so  it  happened  that,  an  hour  later,  an 
eager  group  of  troopers,  some  in  saddle,  some 
boot-deep  in  the  snow,  were  crowding  at  the  brink 


172  TKOOPER  ROSS. 

where  the  Platte  went  roaring  over  some  rocky- 
rapids  half  a  mile  up-stream  from  camp.  The 
weather  was  oddly  mild  for  Wyoming.  There 
were  indications  of  more  snow  and  lots  of  it,  and 
that  underfoot  was  already  soft,  and  what  far- 
down  Easterners  among  the  men  called  "  slumpy." 
There's  no  place  like  the  army  for  learning  the 
dialects  of  all  these  United  States.  And  through 
the  soft,  hazy  atmosphere  the  rushing  river  was 
everywhere  plainly  visible  to  the  opposite  shore. 
Here  at  the  rapids  it  was  swift  and  raging,  toss- 
ing the  ice-cakes  through  clouds  of  white  foam,  but 
it  was  shallow,  whereas,  for  miles  above  or  below 
it  would  everywhere  sweep  the  tallest  horse  off 
his  feet.  And  here  just  mounting  were  two  tall 
troopers.  The  saddles  were  stripped  off  their 
strong  cavalry  horses.  All  the  weight  of  saddle 
and  saddle-bags,  lariat,  picket-pin,  side-lines,  hal- 
ter, overcoat,  shelter-tent,  carbine,  sabre,  and 
sockets  was  left  at  camp.  Sniffing  excitedly  and 
stamping  the  snow  as  though  they  well  knew  a 
race  was  ahead  and  they  were  to  be  the  centres  of 
attraction,  the  bony,  muscular  chargers  looked  fit 
match  for  their  riders,  except  in  height.  Tall 
horses  never  turn  out  well  on  frontier  duty. 
Light  bridles  hung  on  their  heads,  and,  in  place 
of  saddle,  each  wore  a  folded  blanket,  covered  by 
a  poncho,  which  was  secured  by  the  surcingle. 
Other  equipment  had  they  none.     The  riders,  too, 


TROOPER  ROSS.  173 

were  oddly  clad  for  a  winter  dash.  The  boots 
were  gone  and  the  overcoats,  but  fur  caps,  gaunt- 
lets, and  heavy,  blanket-lined  canvas  jackets  hid 
the  upper  man  of  each,  while  legs  and  feet  seemed 
oddly  swathed  in  black  rubber.  Underneath  those 
folds  were  warm  woollen  socks  with  Shoshonee 
leggings  and  moccasins.  The  rubber  was  bound 
with  thongs  over  and  around  their  feet  and  legs 
to  high  up  on  the  thigh.  It  was  a  hard  garb  to 
mount  in.  "  Give  me  a  hand.  Tommy,"  said  Kod, 
thrusting  his  bandaged  hoof  into  the  ready  grasp 
of  a  stooping  comrade.  "  Now  up !"  and  he  was 
astride.  "  Now  help  the  lieutenant,"  and  in  an 
instant  the  second  was  perched  on  his  charger. 
And  then  Captain  Ray's  voice  was  heard. 

"Now,  Hammond,  you  clearly  understand. 
You're  simply  to  follow  the  corporal  till  you  reach 
the  bank.  You've  got  to  flounder  through  the 
ice  and  rapids  and  may  have  to  swim  the  pool 
beyond,  but  till  you  strike  t'other  shore  Ross 
leads.  Then  you  command.  I  reckon  that's  all. 
You  know  your  other  orders.  Find  that  column, 
turn  'em  up  towards  Dry  Fork.  Tell  'em  we 
follow  by  their  trail,  and  we'll  ride  till  we  reach 
'em,  ready  for  the  fight ;  and  if  between  us  we  don't 
whip  the  hide  off  those  murdering  Sioux  then  I'll 
give  up  my  commission.  Ride  for  all  you're 
worth,  fellows,  and — and  God  go  with  you." 

Two  gauntleted  hands  go  up  to  the  cap-brims 

16* 


174  TEOOPEK  EOSS. 

in  salute.  Eacli  man  gives  a  final  liitch  to  his 
pistol-belt.  Kod  takes  off  his  gloves  and  stows 
them  in  the  breast  of  his  campaign  shirt,  Ham- 
mond follows  suit.  There  is  one  quick  glance 
around,  one  brief  word  of  good-by,  and  then — 
Oh,  the  scene  that  follows !  Rod  turns  sharply 
and  puts  his  sturdy  bay  straight  for  the  edge  of 
the  rapids.  "  In  with  you,  Bep  !"  he  shouts,  and, 
though  amazed  and  half  shrinking,  the  trained 
troop  horse  makes  the  plunge.  Only  knee-deep 
at  first,  and  though  he  snorts  and  shivers,  Bep  is  in 
and  at  it,  the  white  waves  hissing  under  his  belly. 
Warily  his  rider  watches  the  swift-shooting  ice- 
cakes.  They  come  big  and  unbroken  here,  but 
many  are  banged  into  pieces  before  they  reach  the 
foot  of  the  "  sault."  Warily  Rod  checks  Bej^po  to 
let  some  big  ice-raft  pass  in  front,  then  pushes  him 
on  again  to  gain  another  yard  or  two  before  another 
check.  He  has  gone  full  twenty  yards  before  he 
strikes  deeper  holes,  into  which  Bep  plunges,  with 
the  water  foaming  about  his  breast.  Now  his 
rider  turns,  flashing-eyed,  and  signals  "  Come  on !" 
and  in  an  instant  Hammond  urges  "  Rockford" 
into  the  unseen  tracks  of  "  Bep]DO  the  Second," 
and  a  gasp  goes  up  from  trooper  lungs  along-shore. 
Two  of  their  best  and  bravest,  two  who  are  loved 
by  both  officers  and  men,  are  fairly  launched  upon 
their  perilous  mission,  with  the  roaring  depths  of 
the  swollen  stream  still  ahead  of  them, — with  fifty 


TROOPER  ROSS.  175 

yards  of  seething  water  still  between  them  and  the 
northern  shore. 

And  now  Bep  is  plunging  indeed !  Down  one 
instant  in  some  unseen  trap ;  up  with  quivering, 
dripping  flanks  the  next.  Once  a  groan  goes  up 
from  the  hitherto  speechless  crowd  along  the  bank. 
"  My  God,  he's  down !  He's  stumbled !"  Then  a 
cheer  of  exultation,  for  Rod  rides  again  gallantly 
aloft.  "  Bravo,  Buster  !  Bully  boy,  Ross  !"  they 
shout  from  shore.  Now  he's  in  the  heart  of  the 
rapids  and  the  waves  and  the  ice  leaps  high.  God 
guide  him  now  indeed ! 

There  is  a  moment  in  which  Bep  seems  to  falter 
and  to  be  trying  to  smell  his  way,  for  his  black 
muzzle  is  sheer  in  the  water.  Then  up  comes  the 
gaunt  head.  High  rises  the  bridle  hand,  for,  with 
one  determined  plunge,  the  massive  shoulders  sink 
into  the  huge  wave  that  rises  in  mid-stream,  and  a 
shiver  goes  through  the  crowd  of  eager  watchers. 
A  big  ice-cake  sweeps  on  the  next  lift  and  seems 
to  charge  directly  at  them,  and  yells' of  warning 
rise  from  the  watchers'  lips,  and  Ray,  pale  and 
pulseless,  has  just  lifted  his  hands  to  his  lips  to 
shout  through  them  to  Hammond  not  to  dare 
another  step,  when  gallant  Beppo  again  finds  his 
footing,  and,  urged  now,  seems  fairly  leaping 
through  the  icy  waves.  Hammond  hears  no  sound 
from  shore.  He  is  closely  watching  Rod,  only 
waiting  for  his  signal,  and  now  drives  Rockford 


176  TROOPER  ROSS. 

straight  into  tliat  same  wave.  It  seems  to  burst 
over  the  withers  of  the  gallant  horse,  but  he  never 
heeds  it.  It's  a  game  of  follow  my  leader,  and  in 
a  moment  he,  too,  is  leaping  and  plunging  in 
Beppo's  wake.  But  Rod  guides  steadily  on.  He 
knows  what  they  on  shore  do  not,  that  in  a 
moment  more  deep  water  must  sweep  them  off  the 
ledge  into  the  boiling  pool  below,  and  there  it's 
over  five  feet  deep  and  the  brave  beasts  must 
swim.  Heavens,  what  a  cry  goes  up  next  mo- 
ment as  the  leading  trooper  is  seen  to  suddenly 
swerve,  to  go  sweeping  sideways  with  the  stream, 
and  is  for  the  moment  lost  to  view !  Then  a 
mad  hurrah,  for  a  fur  cap  is  being  waved  ex- 
ultingly  over  his  reappearing  head,  and  the  next 
minute  Bep  is  seen  gallantly  striking  out  for 
shore.  By  all  that's  wonderful,  he  has  reached 
the  safe  slack  water  of  the  pool  and  is  fighting 
straight  for  the  northern  bank,  straight  at  least 
as  horse  can  go  through  the  floating  ice.  Look ! 
He's  waving  Hammond  to  come  on,  and,  set- 
ting his  teeth,  almost  shutting  his  eyes,  and  with 
a  murmured  prayer,  Hammond  drives  his  unwil- 
ling horse  ahead,  is  in  turn  swept  sidewise  and 
half  submerged,  and  in  another  moment,  dripping, 
but  triumphant,  is  following  Rod  up  the  opposite 
bank. 

And  there  with  heaving  flanks  and  drooping 
heads  the  horses  stand,  while,  glowing  with  exulta- 


The  two  riders  wave    rejoicingly  their  fur  c; 
IVantie  cheei's  from  the  hither  shore. 


in  answer  to  the 


TROOPEE  ROSS.  177 

tion  despite  the  icy  bath,  the  two  riders  wave  re- 
joicingly their  fur  caps  in  answer  to  the  frantic 
cheers  from  the  hither  shore.  Well,  well  might 
they,  the  two  old  playmates,  glory  in  such  a 
double  play  as  that ! 

Now  off,  one  moment,  to  cut  loose  the  lashings 
and  strip  away  the  ponchos  and  toss  the  now  use- 
less rubbers  on  the  bank,  then  each  takes  one 
rousing  pull  at  the  flask  the  doctor  has  given  them 
with  his  strict  injunctions.  Then  once  more  they 
mount,  and,  with  a  parting  wave  of  the  hand, 
away  they  go  over  the  same  old  snow-covered 
prairie.  In  another  hour  they  are  riding  past 
Eagle  Butte,  past  the  Reno  road,  and  so  on  into 
the  heart  of  a  falling  snow-cloud,  riding  like  the 
wind,  while  Ray's  bugles  are  sounding  the  gallop 
miles  away  to  the  south-west,  across  the  conquered 
waters  of  the  Platte. 

Oh,  what  a  story  it  made  about  the  camp-fires 
when,  long  weeks  after,  the  short,  fierce  campaign 
being  closed,  a  famous  gathering  was  held  there 
of  famous  cavalry  regiments !  and  they  say  it  was 
enough  to  make  strong  men  grow  blind  to  see  the 
meeting  between  stern,  soldierly  Major  Ross  and 
his  now  famous  son.  They  say  that  Rod  was  for 
standing  to  attention,  with  his  hand  at  salute,  but 
the  father  heart  burst  all  bounds  of  military  eti- 
quette. The  major  flung  himself  from  his  horse 
and,  with  something  like  a  great  sob  of  joy  and 


178  TKOOPEK  KOSS. 

pride  and  thanksgiving,  gathered  his  boy  to  his 
breast. 

And  a  famous  night  we  had  of  it  at  Leaven- 
worth four  months  later.  Of  course  all  official 
credit,  praise,  and  recommendation  had  been  made, 
and  colonels  and  generals  had  pleaded  for  the  im- 
mediate promotion  of  our  brave  "Buster,"  but 
you  boys  at  home  have  no  idea  how  little  that 
amounts  to.  A  medal  of  honor  was  of  course 
promptly  accorded  both  Hammond  and  Koss,  for 
that  costs  nothing ;  and  while  we  are  talking  of 
this,  about  four  years  later,  by  which  time  Ham- 
mond had  been  in  regular  course  promoted  to  first 
lieutenant,  he  was  tendered  the  brevet  to  that  rank 
on  account  of  "  gallant  and  conspicuous  conduct" 
on  this  very  occasion.  This  simply  amounted  to 
offering  him  less  than  he  already  had.  However, 
Buster  is  the  boy  we  are  all  concerned  in,  and 
you  will  well  understand  that  Hammond  hadn't 
forgotten  to  jog  Senator  Farwell's  elbow,  and 
presently  that  gentleman  woke  up  in  earnest. 

"  Quit  you  like  men ;  be  strong,"  was  the  text 
Koderick  Ross  had  stood  by  from  his  boyhood. 
"  Do  your  best,  no  man  can  do  more,"  were  the 
loving  father's  words  ;  and  by  neither  boy  nor  man 
could  it  be  said  by  one  of  us,  that  though  Rod 
might  have  failed  in  mathematics,  he  had  not  won 
in  every  other  way.  "I'll  win  it  yet!"  he  had 
wired  when  enlisting,  brave  fellow  that  he  was, 


TROOPEK  ROSS. 


179 


and  win  it  he  did,  for  presently  there  came  a  tele- 
gram from  Senator  Farwell, — "  The  commission  is 
signed,"  and  one  week  later  every  officer  and 
soldier  at  the  fort  turned  to  cheer  and  congratulate 
the  new  lieutenant  and  to  bid  good*by  to  Trooper 
Koss. 


SIGNAL    BUTTE. 


SIGNAL   BUTTE. 


CHAPTER    I. 

The  new  road  from  Prescott  to  the  mining  set- 
tlements along  tlie  Santa  Anita  followed  the  Sandy 
for  two  or  three  miles  above  Apache  Caiion,  then, 
turning  abruptly,  dived  under  the  turbid  waters 
and  reappeared,  dripping  and  bedraggled,  on  the 
opposite  bank,  where  it  was  speedily  lost  in  the 
thick  underbrush  as  it  wound  away  eastward.  Time 
was  when  the  trail  followed  the  cafion  itself, — a 
mere  mule-path, — but  ever  since  the  night  of  the 
big  cloud-burst  that  swelled  the  stream  to  the  force 
and  fury  of  a  Niagara  and  drowned  old  Sanchez 
and  his  whole  party  of  prospectors,  packers,  and 
pack-mules,  even  the  Indians  seemed  to  shun  it. 
The  only  survivor  of  the  tragedy  was  a  lad  of 
twelve,  the  son  of  a  Yankee  miner  and  his  Mexican 
wife,  a  lad  whose  name  was  Leon  McNutt, — McNutt 

183 


184  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

being  the  patronymic  and  Leon  the  Christian  name 
given  him  by  his  dark-eyed,  dark-haired,  dark- 
skinned  mother, — and  Leon,  swept  away  in  the 
flood,  was  fished  out  at  dawn  several  miles  below 
by  a  squad  of  troopers  from  old  Fort  Eetribution. 
The  little  fellow  was  more  dead  than  alive,  half 
drowned,  and  sadly  battered  and  bruised  by  the 
flotsam  and  jetsam  of  the  wreck  whirled  along 
with  him  by  the  raging  waters,  and  for  a  time  all 
effort  to  revive  him  failed.  When  at  last  he  was 
able  to  speak  and  tell  his  name,  he  was  lying  in  a 
dainty  little  bed  in  a  cool  room,  with  such  a  gentle, 
pitying,  motherly  face  bending  over  him,  and  such 
soft  hands  caressing  his  heavy  crop  of  coal-black 
hair,  and  beside  the  sweet,  womanly  face  was  that 
of  a  sturdy  Saxon  boy  of  about  Leon's  own  age, 
whose  blue  eyes  were  full  of  anxiety  and  sympathetic 
interest.  The  first  hand-clasp  the  little  orphan 
seemed  to  recognize  was  this  other  boy's.  It  was 
in  answer  to  his  questioning  that  the  bewildered 
patient  feebly  murmured  his  name, — Leon  McNutt, 
— and  could  not  at  all  understand  the  merriment 
in  the  room  when  his  questioner  turned  with  grave, 
perplexed,  incredulous  face  to  the  two  gentlemen 
in  uniform  standing  by  and  wonderingly  an- 
nounced, "  He  says  his  name's  Layon  MacDuffl" 

And  that  was  how  the  first  boy  of  our  story  came 
to  be  hailed  thereafter  by  his  trooper  friends  as 
MacDuff  instead  of  the  patronymic  to  which  he 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  185 

was  entitled.  Even  officers  and  ladies  seemed  to 
find  the  title  more  whimsically  attractive  than  the 
pretty  Spanish-Mexican  name  of  Leon,  by  which 
Mrs.  Cullen,  the  captain's  wife  and  Randall's 
mother,  always  addressed  him.  One  of  the  sol- 
diers referred  to  him  as  the  Waif  of  Apache 
Cafion,  but  the  big  tears  that  rose  to  the  boy's  dark 
eyes  at  any  reference  to  the  tragedy  that  left  him 
alone  in  the  world  crushed  that  would-be  witticism 
in  the  bud.  Without  adoption,  either  formal  or 
informal,  Leon  had  become  an  inmate  of  Captain 
Cullen's  household  from  the  moment  of  his  arrival 
in  Sergeant  Kelly's  arms,  and  there  he  lived  as 
Randall's  friend,  fellow-scholar,  and  playmate  for 
sixteen  months,  by  which  time  he  had  forgotten 
his  sorrows,  and  had  transferred  to  his  protectors 
about  all  the  measure  of  love  and  gratitude  he  had 
ever  felt  for  his  parents. 

And  then  came  changes.  For  nearly  a  year  the 
boys  had  roamed  together  over  the  neighborhood, 
hunting  and  fishing,  riding  their  ponies,  living  a 
healthy,  active,  out-door  life,  except  when  at  their 
lessons  or  asleep,  and  the  bond  between  them  had 
grown  stronger  and  stronger  as  the  days  went  by. 
But  old  Fort  Retribution  was  one  of  the  relics  of 
the  great  war  of  the  rebellion,  and  had  been 
'•'located"  by  the  volunteers  for  temporary  occu- 
pancy only,  with  the  main  idea  of  being  near  the 
water.     It  was  on  low,  sandy,  unprofitable  ground 

16* 


186  SIGNAL   BUTTE. 

in  an  out-of-the-way  corner  of  Arizona,  and  was 
maintained  for  the  sole  purpose  of  the  defence  of 
prospectors,  settlers,  and  miners  against  marauding 
Apaches.  By  and  by  a  stage-route  was  projected 
from  the  new  mines  in  the  Santa  Anita  valley  to 
Prescott,  and  for  safety  the  road  wound  around  the 
spurs  of  the  Socorro  range  instead  of  diving — with 
the  Sandy — through  the  ten-mile  slit  of  Apache 
Cafion.  Mexicans  are  superstitious  as  so  many 
Indians,  and  Indians  as  so  many  sailors,  and  all 
manner  of  ghost  stories  were  told  around  the  camp- 
fires  as  a  result  of  that  cloud-burst  episode  of  the 
early  '70's.  You  couldn't  bribe  a  Mexican  packer 
to  take  a  mule-train  through  there  after  dark,  and 
the  Indians  shunned  it  as  they  did  the  Whistling 
Caves  up  in  the  Red  Rock  country.  White  men 
and  soldiers  didn't  care  a  rap  for  ghosts,  but  they 
didn't  wish  to  take  chances  on  cloud-bursts.  The 
cafion  was  narrow  and  tortuous,  the  rocky  walls 
well-nigh  vertical  in  places,  and  so  it  would  have 
cost  money  and  labor  to  run  a  wagon  road  through 
there.  The  road  was  pushed  eastward,  therefore, 
from  the  ford,  five  miles  north  of  the  upper  en- 
trance to  the  canon,  and  old  Fort  Retribution, 
warned  by  the  cloud-burst  of  '71  that  it  would 
better  seek  higher  ground,  was  ordered  moved  from 
the  flats  at  the  southern  side  of  the  range  over  to  a 
plateau  several  miles  to  the  east,  whence  there  was  a 
splendid  view  of  the  Tonto  Basin  for  many  a  league 


SIGNAL   BUTTE.  187 

towards  tlie  distant  cliffs  of  the  Black  Mesa  and 
away  south-eastward  to  the  Sierra  Ancha.  Under 
the  bluffs  of  the  Socorro  were  abundant  springs  of 
clear,  cold  water ;  among  the  foot-hills  was  abun- 
dant grass  for  the  horses  and  pack-mules ;  and,  but 
for  its  utter  isolation,  the  new  post  of  old  Fort 
Retribution  would  have  been  all  that  could  be 
hoped  for  in  Arizona,  and  the  cavalry  officers  and 
men  rejoiced  in  the  change. 

But  it  was  decided  upon  at  a  time  when  Leon's 
heart  was  nearly  broken.  The  regiment  to  which 
his  kind  friend  and  protector  belonged  was  ordered 
eastward  after  several  years  of  exile,  and  a  new 
and  strange  command  was  to  take  its  place.  Cap- 
tain and  Mrs.  Cullen  had  done  what  they  could  for 
their  foundling.  They  fed  and  clothed,  taught  and 
cared  for  him  as  they  did  for  their  own,  because 
"  Bandy"  had  been  pining  for  a  playmate,  and  this 
little  fellow  came  opportunely  into  his  life.  They 
had,  furthermore,  done  all  that  lay  in  their  power 
to  secure  for  the  orphan  such  property  as  might 
have  been  his  father's  ;  but  this  proved  a  difficult 
task.  McNutt  had  had  a  partner  in  his  mining 
ventures,  but  the  partner  swore  stoutly  that  Mac 
hadn't  a  cent  in  the  world  that  wasn't  swept  away 
in  the  flood  of  Apache  Cafion, — even  went  so  far 
as  to  declare  that  Mac  owed  him  money, — and  more 
than  once  aj)peared  at  Betribution  when  times  were 
hard  at  the  mines  and  thought  the  officers  or  some- 


188  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

body  ought  to  pay  it  because  they  now  had  Mac's 
boy  as  security.  He  generally  compromised,  as  he 
called  it,  however,  with  requests  to  be  supplied  with 
bacon,  flour,  coffee,  and  sugar  at  commissary  prices, 
which  were  far  less  than  those  at  the  mines.  The 
soldiers  found  out  that  this  man,  Muncey  by  name, 
was  in  bad  repute  among  his  fellow-miners,  and 
openly  flouted  him  when  he  came  among  them,  but 
the  oflicers,  unable  to  prove  anything,  continued  to 
show  courtesy  to  even  though  they  disliked  him. 

Captain  Cullen's  troop  marched  away  from 
Retribution  in  April,  '72,  just  as  soon  as  Captain 
Raymond's,  of  the  — th  Cavalry,  arrived.  Mrs. 
Cullen  and  Randy  in  the  mean  time  having  been 
sent  away  by  stage  to  the  Colorado,  and  thence  by 
steamer  around  to  San  Francisco.  (This  was  long 
before  railways  were  known  in  Arizona.)  But 
weeks  before  the  departure  of  the  troop  there 
arrived  at  the  old  post  a  swarthy  little  fellow  from 
Tucson,  who  announced  himself  as  brother  of  the 
late  Mrs.  McNutt  and  as  Leon's  uncle.  He  had 
come,  he  said,  to  take  Leon  back  to  his  mother's 
people  in  Sonora.  He  brought  letters  from  officials 
in  Tucson  which  established  his  claim,  and  was 
fortified  in  his  statements  by  McNutt's  former 
partner,  the  malodorous  Muncey,  who  came  with 
him.  The  officers  and  men  had  no  claims  upon 
the  boy  other  than  those  of  friendship  and  affec- 
tion.    They  were  his  rescuers  and  supporters, — 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  189 

that  was  all, — but  Leon  was  by  this  time  far  more 
American  than  Mexican, — "  far  more  Yank  than 
Greaser,"  as  the  men  expressed  it, — and  he  not 
only  begged  and  prayed  not  to  be  taken  from 
them,  he  kicked  and  scratched  and  fought  like  a 
young  bear  cub  when  finally  forced  away.  Mrs. 
Cullen  and  Randy  were  spared  that  scene.  She 
had  been  ailing  a  little  as  a  result  of  too  long  a 
stay  on  the  flats  of  old  Retribution,  and  had  been 
taken  up  to  the  mountain  perch  of  Prescott  for 
change  of  air  while  the  packing  for  the  move  was 
going  on,  Randall  going  with  his  mother, — sorely 
aggrieved  because  Leon  was  not  included  in  the 
invitation  sent  by  the  colonel's  wife.  Captain 
Cullen,  probably,  was  party  to  the  arrangement. 
He  knew  they  could  not  keep  Leon  always,  and 
the  longer  the  stay  the  harder  the  parting.  Less 
than  a  week  after  his  friend  and  playmate  had 
gone  his  uncle  and  the  partner  appeared ;  less  than 
a  fortnight  and  the  poor  little  fellow  was  pulled 
off  the  buckboard  in  the  dusty  streets  of  Tucson 
and  turned  over  to  a  Mexican  packer  for  trans- 
portation to  Sonora,  and  less  than  a  month  after 
the  Cullens  and  "  C"  Troop  had  left  the  post,  hag- 
gard, half  starved,  footsore,  and  in  rags,  little  Leon 
reappeared  at  old  Retribution  almost  as  utter  a 
stranger  as  when,  half  drowned,  he  was  borne 
thither  in  Sergeant  Kelly's  arms  long  eighteen 
months  before. 


190  SIGNAL   BUTTE. 

If  you  had  lived  a  year  or  more  in  a  certain 
village  and  knew  every  member  of  every  house- 
hold within  four  blocks  of  your  home  and  were  to 
be  taken  away  for  a  month  or  so,  and  returning, 
faint,  footsore,  hungry,  and  in  rags,  yet  thrilling 
with  hope  and  joy  at  the  thought  of  being  restored 
to  kind  friends  and  hospitable  firesides  only  to 
find  everything  but  the  houses  changed,  you  can 
fancy  little  Leon's  dumb  misery  as  he  dragged 
from  door  to  door  along  ofiicers'  row  meeting  only 
total  strangers.  He  reached  the  old  post  just 
about  two  o'clock  of  a  scorching  May  afternoon, — 
when  everybody  was  seeking  shelter  within-doors, 
— and  the  servants  who  came  to  answer  his  timid 
knock  looked  askance  at  the  little  black-eyed 
ragamufiin  and  could  only  say  the  people  he 
sought  were  gone.  He  had  turned  away  with  a 
choking  sob  from  the  third  door, — the  big  house 
where  the  major  of  the  Eleventh  Cavalry  used  to 
live, — not  knowing  whither  now  to  go,  and  had 
sunk  down  upon  the  steps  in  utter  desolation,  when 
he  heard  through  the  screen  of  the  open  window 
a  childish  voice  pleading.  "  It  must  be  Leon, 
mamma.  Do  let  me  call  him  back."  And  the 
next  minute  a  pretty  flaxen-haired  girl  of  ten  was 
at  his  side.  Leon  never  could  tell  just  how  it  all 
came  about.  He  remembered  trying  hard  to  keep 
a  stiff  upper  \i])  and  be  brave  and  self-controlled 
and  tell  his  story  calmly  and  coherently,  but  he 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  191 

was  weak,  starved,  cruslied  with  the  bitterness  of 
his  disappointment,  and  he  broke  down  entirely 
and  sobbed  in  utter  abandonment,  and  there  was 
no  more  thought  of  siesta  at  Captain  Foster's 
quarters  that  afternoon.  A  pitying,  sympathetic 
group  surrounded  the  boy,  Mrs.  Foster  and  her 
daughter  Nellie  vying  with  one  another  in  min- 
istering to  his  wants,  and  other  kind  women 
coming  in  from  adjoining  quarters  as  the  story 
swiftly  went  the  rounds.  It  was  all  over  the  post 
in  a  few  hours  how  little  Leon  who  used  to  live 
here  with  the  Cullens  as  Randall's  playmate  and 
friend  had  escaped  from  the  packers  in  Southern 
Arizona  and  made  his  way  all  those  weary,  blis- 
tering, desert  miles,  begging  a  ride  in  freight 
wagons,  herding  mules,  trotting  along  behind  the 
mail  buckboard,  sometimes  tramping  all  alone, 
until  he  reached  at  last  the  familiar  scenes,  only 
to  find  that  his  friends  were  fled. 

No  hospitality  was  ever  warmer  than  that  of 
the  soldier  in  those  old  frontier  days.  Tramp  or 
vagabond,  gypsy,  "  Greaser,"  or  Indian,  it  made  no 
difference  ;  even  vagrant  dogs  never  knew  what  it 
was  to  be  turned  away  uncheered.  The  Fosters 
took  the  little  stranger  for  the  time  being,  at  least, 
because  they  knew  the  Cullens  well  and,  meeting 
them  in  San  Francisco,  had  heard  Leon's  story 
from  their  own  lips,  though  never  dreaming  they 
were  to  see  him  so  soon.     They  and  the  other  new 


192  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

families  were  kind  to  him  as  people  well  could  be, 
and  yet,  though  grateful,  it  was  plain  the  boy- 
could  not  be  consoled.  They  were  tearing  down 
the  frame  barracks  and  in  the  midst  of  the  move 
to  the  new  site — some  of  the  troops  were  already 
there  encamped — when  Leon  reappeared,  and  he 
watched  the  process  of  dismantling  with  a  leaden 
heart.  The  only  real  home  he  had  ever  known 
was  being  ripped  to  pieces  before  his  very  eyes, 
and  he  could  not  bear  it.  While  the  new  officers 
and  men  were  strangers  to  him,  there  was  still  at 
the  post  his  first  protector,  old  Sergeant  Kelly, 
newly  appointed  ordnance  sergeant  and  retained 
there  after  the  departure  of  his  old  regiment. 
There  was  the  hospital  steward  and  his  family  and 
the  clerks  and  employes  about  the  trader's  store, 
as  well  as  the  men  at  the  quartermaster's  corral ; 
they  knew  him  well,  but  they,  too,  were  in  the 
midst  of  preparation  for  the  move.  They  were 
full  of  sympathy  for  him  and  of  distrust  of 
Muncey,  the  ex-partner,  and  of  Manuel  Cardoza, 
the  maternal  uncle.  They  believed  implicitly 
Leon's  story  of  his  transportation.  The  boy  said 
that  Uncle  Manuel  had  treated  him  fairly  well 
until  they  were  south  of  the  Gila  Kiver.  Muncey 
had  left  them  and  gone  back  to  the  Santa  Anita 
after  signing  and  exchanging  some  papers  with 
Manuel  at  a  ranch  on  the  Agua  Fria.  Leon  could 
tell    little    about    his  journey   southward.      The 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  193 

driver  of  the  buckboard  had  made  a  place  for  him 
among  the  mail-sacks,  and  there  he  cried  himself 
to  sleep  at  night.  But  instead  of  taking  him  back 
to  Aunt  Carmen,  of  whom  his  mother  had  often 
told  him,  Uncle  Manuel  had  turned  him  over  to 
this  boss  packer  at  Tucson,  and  Leon  soon  found 
there  was  something  wrong.  Instead  of  taking 
the  southward  trail,  the  pack-train  was  travelling 
eastward  day  after  day,  and  he  learned  presently 
that  they  were  going  to  old  Fort  Crittenden, — far 
over  where  the  Chiricahua  Apaches  under  Cochise, 
their  famous  leader,  were  then  in  the  height  of 
their  bloody  work.  Mrs.  Cullen  had  taught  Ean- 
dall  and  Leon  the  beautiful  constellations  in  the 
cloudless  Arizona  skies,  and  from  the  pole-star  by 
night  and  the  sun  by  day  he  knew  they  were 
never  going  towards  Hermosillo,  his  mother's  far 
Sonora  home.  Then  he  overheard  talk  among  the 
packers  that  boded  ill  for  him.  Manuel  had 
reasons  for  wanting  to  get  him  out  of  the  way, 
was  all  he  could  make  of  it,  and  if  he  wasn't  lost, 
as  they  expressed  it,  before  they  reached  Sierra 
Bonita,  he  must  be  "  lost"  there, — where  it  could 
be  laid  to  Cochise  and  the  Chiricahuas.  Terrified, 
the  boy  still  kept  his  wits.  They  passed  a  wagon- 
train — a  quartermaster's  "  outfit"  westward  bound 
— one  day,  and  that  evening,  soon  after  dark,  he 
slipped  out  of  camp,  and  all  alone  and  afoot  took 
the  back  track  across  the  desert,  and  after  an  all- 

i       n  17 


194  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

night  tramp  caught  the  train  with  its  soldier  escort 
just  as  it  was  starting  on  the  next  stage.  The 
troopers  gave  him  food  and  a  place  to  sleep  under 
the  canvas  cover  of  one  of  the  wagons.  Leon  was 
carried  back  to  Tucson  safely,  but  from  there  home 
to  the  old  j)Ost  far  up  to  the  north  was  a  matter  of 
days  and  weeks.  He  had  got  there  at  last  worn 
and  weary,  but  something  told  him  it  wouldn't  be 
long  before  Uncle  Manuel  and  Muncey  were  after 
him  again,  speedily  learning  that  he  had  returned 
to  his  friends  instead  of  being  *'  lost,"  as  the 
packers  might  say,  among  their  foes,  the  Chirica- 
huas.  He  warned  his  soldier  friends,  old  and 
new,  that  he  would  not  and  dare  not  return  to  his 
uncle's  control.  The  problem  therefore  was  what 
to  do  with  him  until  Captain  and  Mrs.  Cullen 
could  be  heard  from,  and  the  solution  came 
quicker  than  might  have  been  expected.  Senior 
captain  of  his  regiment  when  it  left  Arizona,  Cap- 
tain Cullen  was  looking  forward  to  promotion  to 
the  grade  of  major  within  the  year,  and  probably 
in  his  own  old  regiment.  But  one  of  those  sudden 
and  unlooked-for  opportunities  occurred  that  are 
so  characteristic  of  army  life.  Major  Wharton,  of 
the  — th  Cavalry,  the  new  regiment  just  reaching 
Arizona,  concluded  that  he  would  rather  retire 
with  the  three-quarters  pay  of  that  grade  after 
thirty  years  of  hard  service  than  go  out  to  the 
desert  and  desolate  land  of  Arizona  for  four  years 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  195 

more.  Captain  Culleii,  promoted  major  of  tlie 
— th  Cavalry  vice  Wharton  retired,  was  ordered  to 
return  to  the  very  station  he  had  so  recently  quit. 
Leon's  best  friends  were  coming  back,  and  Handy 
wrote  in  eager  delight  to  tell  the  news. 

This  was  about  mid-June.  Blazing  hot  and 
dry  were  the  days  and  breezeless  the  nights, — 
a  most  unfavorable  time  for  travel  to  and  fro 
across  the  Arizona  deserts, — but  Major  Cullen  was 
losing  not  an  hour.  He  was  a  man  who  had  seen 
much  service  among  the  Apache  Indians,  knew 
their  haunts  and  habits,  and  was  both  feared  and 
trusted  by  them.  No  sooner  was  the  old  regiment 
fairly  out  of  Arizona  and  before  the  new  one  was 
fairly  in,  there  flew  a  hurried  despatch  to  San 
Francisco  that  was  flashed  on  across  the  Sierras 
and  Kockies  and  caught  the  new  major  at  Omaha. 
In  brief  words  it  told  him  that  there  was  universal 
uprising  among  the  Apaches,  and  asked  how  soon 
he  could  return,  as  the  general  held  open  for  him 
an  important  command.  In  twenty-four  hours 
the  reply  was  at  Prescott :  "  Start  this  morning. 
Expect  me  by  25th."  On  the  same  day  a  courier 
from  Prescott — riding  post-haste  with  despatches 
to  the  new  commander  at  Retribution — warned 
him  that  he  must  guard  his  working  parties  and 
the  road  between  the  old  and  new  posts.  The 
Tontos  had  "jumped."  Now,  Tonto  in  the  Mex- 
ican dialect  means  fool  or  idiot,  but  the  Tonto 


196  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

Apache  was  no  fool.  The  craftiest,  cunningest 
of  Indians  he,  and  well  had  the  chiefs  and  young 
men  reasoned  that  a  good  time  to  strike  would  be 
just  as  the  old  seasoned  regiment  left  the  territory 
and  before  the  new  one — utterly  untutored  in 
Apache  stratagem  and  mountain  scouting — could 
begin  to  get  down  to  their  work.  And  so  all 
through  the  wild  hunting-grounds  in  the  Sierras 
their  war-fires  and  signals  blazed  by  night  and 
puffed  in  smoke-cloud  by  day.  All  across  the 
rocky  chasms  and  among  the  pine-crested  ranges, 
from  the  haunts  of  the  Hualpais  in  Northern 
Arizona  down  through  the  valleys  of  the  Verde 
and  the  Hassayampa, — the  home  of  Apache  Mo- 
have and  Apache  Yuma, — across  the  broad  basin 
between  the  Mazatzal  and  the  Black  Mesa,  and 
southward  to  the  Sierra  Ancha,  the  Tonto  Apaches 
had  sent  their  messengers  urging  instant  and 
united  action ;  and  down  from  the  mountains, 
on  stage-road,  trail,  and  scattered  mining  camp, 
swooped  the  savage  foemen,  and  all  Arizona  waked 
to  a  new  reign  of  terror. 

Among  the  first  mines  abandoned  as  the  result 
of  this  sudden  raid  were  those  on  the  Santa  Anita. 
The  first  refugee  to  claim  the  protection  of  the 
commander  of  new  Fort  Retribution  was  Muncey, 
speedily  followed  by  half  a  dozen  others,  all  with 
fearful  tales  of  massacre  and  pillage.  It  was  a 
hot  June  evening  when  they  gathered  at  the  edge 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  197 

of  the  bluff  looking  westward  from  the  adjutant's 
office  over  the  southern  foot-hills  of  the  range  to 
where,  faint  and  dim,  the  guard-lights  of  the  old 
post  could  just  be  distinguished  through  the  rare 
Arizona  atmosphere,  twinkling  feebly  in  the  low 
lands  of  the  Sandy,  ten  long  miles  away.  "  How 
many  of  our  people  are  left  down  there  under 
care  of  the  guard  ?"  asked  Captain  Raymond  of 
the  stern-faced  old  soldier  in  command. 

"  Only  the  ordnance  sergeant's  family  and  the 
workmen  dismantling  what's  left  of  the  post." 

"  No  women  or  children  besides  Kelly's  ?" 

"  None.  The  last  were  moved  over  to-day, — 
unless  we  count  MacDuff.  Leon  said  he  wanted 
to  stay  with  old  Kelly  to  the  last." 

"  Leon !"  exclaimed  the  miner  Muncey,  in 
apparent  amaze.  "  Why,  I  thought  that  boy 
was — was  safe  in  Sonora  with  his  mother's  people.'* 
Whereat  two  of  his  fellow-miners  looked  keenly 
into  his  face  and  then  exchanged  quick  and  ex- 
pressive glances. 

"  That  boy,"  said  Captain  Foster,  "  is  like  a  cat. 
He  found  his  way  back  from  Tucson  to  the  old 
post,  and  sticks  to  it  so  long  as  there's  a  shingle 
left.  Look  there,"  he  continued,  pointing  to  a 
jagged,  conical  height  clearly  defined  against  the 
soft  hues  of  the  lingering  twilight.  "Yonder's 
Signal  Butte*  overhanging  the  old  rookeries,  and 

*  "  Butte"  is  universally  pronounced  "  bute." 
17* 


198  SIGNAL   BUTTE. 

Kelly's  rancli  is  a  mile  beyond  that.  Now,  sup- 
pose the  Apaches  did  work  around  to  the  west  of 
us  and  were  to  swoop  down  on  the  Sandy ;  sup- 
pose our  people  were  able  to  get  up  there  and  sig- 
nal ;  how  long  would  it  take  us  to  turn  out  fifty 
horsemen  and  gallop  over  those  ten  miles,  and 
how  much  would  be  left  by  the  time  we  got 
there?" 

The  commanding  officer  stood  in  deep  thought 
a  moment  without  replying.  He  had  sent  to  the 
old  site  only  a  lieutenant  and  twenty  men.  This 
would  be  sufficient  to  protect  the  property  still 
unshipped  and  the  lives  of  those  still  detained 
there  on  duty,  but  there  were  two  ranches  in  the 
valley  within  a  couple  of  miles  of  the  post ;  there 
was  the  camp  of  Jose's  bull-train ;  there  was 
Sergeant  Kelly's  little  farm  on  the  slopes  at  the 
south  gate  of  Apache  Caflon, — all  beyond  rifle- 
shot of  the  guard,  Kelly  was  an  old  First  Dra- 
goon man, — a  veteran  who  had  fought  Aj^aches 
quarter  of  a  century  before,  and  declared  that  he 
despised  them.  His  wife  and  two  daughters  lived 
at  the  ranch  and,  though  bitterly  disappointed  at 
the  removal  of  the  post,  were  by  no  means  afraid. 
But  no  such  outbreak  as  this  had  occurred  before. 
The  Apaches  were  more  daring  and  better  armed, 
and  down  in  the  bottom  of  his  heart  Major  Thorn- 
ton wished  he  had  left  a  bigger  force  of  cavalry 
at  the  post ;  but  it  was  now  too  late. 


SIGNAL   BUTTE.  199 

Darkness  had  settled  down  on  the  garrison. 
The  last  hues  of  the  twilight  faded  out  of  the 
western  sky.  The  guard-lights  at  the  distant 
valley  twinkled  faintly  but  steadfast  through  the 
warm,  pulseless  air.  Over  at  the  half-finished 
quarters  the  drums  and  fifes  of  the  infantry  were 
sounding  tattoo,  and  still  the  party  lingered  at 
the  westward  bluff, — Wharton,  Raymond,  and 
Foster  chatting  ■  in  low  tone  apart,  the  civilians 
talking  to  some  younger  officers,  eagerly  and  ex- 
citedly recounting  the  circumstances  of  their 
morning's  flight.  Muncey  was  of  these  the  most 
voluble.  He  was  just  saying,  "  I  tell  you  the 
whole  Tonto  tribe  is  out  of  the  hills  and  down 
here  in  the  basin  this  very  night,"  when  another 
cried,  "  Hush !" 

Somewhere  over  on  the  north  side  the  call  of  a 
sentry  rang  out  sharp,  clear,  and  full  upon  the 
night  air. 

*'  Corporal  of  the  guard.  Number  5  T* 

"  That's  old  Hennicke,"  said  Raymond,  promptly. 
"  When  he  has  anything  to  report  it's  no  boy-story. 
I'll  go,  sir." 

The  cry  went  echoing  back  towards  the  guard- 
house, sharply  passed  along  by  Numbers  6  and  7 
on  the  eastern  flank.  The  corj^oral  came  out  on 
the  run,  and  the  guardsmen,  sitting  or  sprawling 
around  the  stacked  rifles,  scrambled,  many  of  them, 
to  their  feet.     Before  even  a  fleet  corporal  could 


200 


SIGNAL  BUTTE. 


reach  tlie  distant  post  Thornton  and  two  captains 
bore  down  upon  it,  others  at  respectful  distance 
following. 

"  What's  up,  Hennicke  ?"  hailed  his  troop  com- 
mander, scorning  preliminaries. 

"  Firing,  sir.  Out  on  the  Prescott  road  to  the 
north-west.     I  could  see  the  flashes." 

"Who  on  earth  can  it  be?"  asked  the  major. 
**  Captain  Foster,  let  your  troop  saddle  at  once." 


CHAPTEE    11. 


That  there  should  be  repeated  alarms  from  the 
north-east,  east,  and  south,  where  away  were  the 
pine-covered  crests  of  the  Black  Mesa  and  the 
Sierra  Ancha,  where  were  the  haunts  of  the  Tonto 
and  the  White  Mountain  Apaches,  every  one  ex- 
pected. There  were  still  among  the  foot-hills  some 
parties  of  miners  and  prospectors,  over  whose  fate 
there  was  good  reason  for  alarm.  The  Santa  Anita 
placers  had  been  promptly  abandoned,  as  we  have 
seen.  There  was  eager  watch  for  danger  signals 
from  the  site  of  old  Retribution  down  in  the  Sandy 
Valley  to  the  west,  but  from  the  site  of  the  new 
post  to  the  crossing  of  the  Sandy  above  Apache 
Cafion  the  road  turned  and  twisted  among  the  foot- 
hills of  the  mountains  for  twenty-three  miles,  and 
there  wasn't  a  human  habitation  for  nearly  forty. 
Then,  deep  in  a  cleft  of  the  range,  a  stage  station, 
with  corrals  and  well  and  lunch-room  and  bar,  had 

201 


202  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

been  built  by  some  daring  spirits,  eager  to  accumu- 
late money  at  whatever  risk.  Beyond  tliem,  for 
another  thirty  miles,  the  road  lay  through  desola- 
tion itself,  and  reached  the  outskirts  of  even  frontier 
civilization  again  among  the  newly  finished  ranches 
in  the  broad  and  sunny  valley  of  Willow  Creek. 

In  view  of  the  sudden  and  simultaneous  swoop 
of  the  Apaches  upon  the  roads  east  of  Prescott, 
everybody  had  been  warned.  Even  the  mail- 
riders  held  back  for  mounted  escorts.  No  stage 
for  Wickenberg  and  the  south,  no  buckboard  for 
the  Santa  Anita,  had  left  the  territorial  capital  for 
three  days.  No  mail  had  been  received  at  Retri- 
bution for  forty-eight  hours.  The  daring  troopers 
who  rode  in  with  despatches  early  that  June  morn- 
ing had  come  through  the  Sandy  Valley,  as  they 
frankly  admitted,  with  revolvers  in  hand,  their 
hearts  in  their  mouths,  and  the  reins  in  their  teeth. 
They  had  passed  no  party  eastward  bound.  Who, 
then,  could  it  be  who,  striving  now  to  reach  the 
post  by  way  of  the  new  road,  should  have  fallen 
foul  of  the  Apaches  only  a  mile  or  so  out  ?  Thorn- 
ton's first  imj^ulse  was  to  say  the  sentry  must  be 
dreaming ;  but  Raymond,  who  had  known  the  old 
trooper  nearly  a  decade,  as  promptly  declared  the 
sentry's  report  reliable.  "I  not  only  saw  the 
flashes,"  said  Hennicke,  "  but  I  could  faintly  hear 
the  shots,  sir, — fifteen  or  twenty.  It  was  still  as 
death  out  here." 


SIGNAL   BUTTE.  203 

Meantime,  sending  an  eager  boy  lieutenant  on 
the  jump  to  order  out  "  G"  Troop,  Captain  Foster 
had  hastened  to  his  temporary  quarters — half 
canvas,  half  adobe — to  make  his  hurried  prepara- 
tions. Already  the  rumor  was  running  from  mouth 
to  mouth.  Only  three  of  the  officers  had  their 
families  with  them  at  the  time.  Mrs.  Foster  was 
one  of  those  women  who  insisted  on  accomj)anying 
her  husband  on  the  move  to  Arizona,  even  though 
the  rudest  of  camp  life  was  to  be  her  portion,  and 
she  and  Nellie,  with  anxiously  beating  hearts,  were 
standing  on  the  unfinished  porch  of  the  new  quar- 
ters, listening  for  further  sound,  as  the  captain 
hastened  up  the  slope. 

"It  can't  be  anything  very  serious,  dear,"  he 
said,  reassuringly.  "  Probably  some  belated  miners 
whose  mules  the  Indians  are  trying  to  run  off. 
We'll  know  in  half  an  hour,  and  I'll  send  word  in 
at  once."  Silent  and  anxious,  she  followed  within 
the  door-way,  where  hung  a  Navajo  blanket  as  the 
only  barrier  between  their  army  nest  and  the  warm 
outer  air,  Nellie  clinging  to  her  mother's  side. 

"  We've  been  watching  all  evening  for  signals 
from  the  Butte,"  murmured  Mrs.  Foster,  as  the 
captain  rapidly  exchanged  his  regulation  coat  for 
a  scouting  jacket.  "We  were  so  anxious  about 
Leon,  and  everybody  who  had  to  remain  there 
seems  so  exposed  now.  We  never  thought  of  hear- 
ing of  trouble  thereaway,"  and  Mrs.  Foster  glanced 


204  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

out  througli  the  open  casement  to  where  the  Pres- 
cott  road,  winding  away  down  the  slope,  disap- 
peared among  the  dark  mountain  shapes  lying 
black  and  silent  under  the  twinkling  pointers  of 
the  Great  Bear. 

"  Leon  is  safe  enough  if  he'll  only  stay  where  he 
is,  with  Kelly,"  answered  the  captain,  buckling  on 
his  pistol-belt.  "  Apaches  won't  attack  the  post — 
even  the  remains  of  one — at  night.  But  I  wish 
old  Kelly  and  his  girls  were  nearer  the  guard.  I 
don't  like  their  being  so  far  from  help  and  so  close 
to  those  overhanging  cliffs.  Now,  don't  borrow 
trouble  to-night,  dear,"  he  concluded,  taking  his  de- 
voted wife  in  his  arms  and  kissing  away  the  burn- 
ing tears.  "  You  and  Nell  must  be  brave.  These 
beggarly  Apaches  probably  think  we  won't  know 
how  to  fight  them,  and  are  simply  starting  in  for  a 
little  fun.  I'm  only  too  glad  of  a  chance  to  deal 
them  a  lesson, — so  is  *  G'  Troop." 

Ten  minutes  later,  in  perfect  silence,  a  double 
file  of  horsemien  rode  briskly  away  into  the  dark- 
ness to  the  north,  Foster  leading, — every  trooper 
armed  with  carbine  and  revolver.  The  night  was 
breathless.  Not  a  puff  of  breeze  stirred  the  pines 
along  the  mountain-side  or  rufiled  the  foliage  of 
the  willows  at  the  Springs.  For  two  miles  the 
road  lay  through  open  country,  dipping  from  the 
plateau  on  which  stood  the  new  post  into  a  mile- 
wide   depression,  then   winding  up   the  gradual 


SIGNAL   BUTTE.  205 

ascent  among  the  foot-liills  of  the  range.  Some- 
where along  that  ascent  the  firing  had  been  seen 
and  heard.  Hennicke's  story  had  already  been 
corroborated.  Two  quartermaster's  men,  enjoying 
a  quiet  smoke  outside  the  adobe  walls  of  the  new 
corral,  had  seen  and  heard  just  what  he  did,  and 
Major  Thornton  was  already  in  possession  of  their 
story.  So,  too,  had  the  sentry  on  Number  4 
heard  what  sounded  like  distant  shots,  but  had 
seen  nothing.  Now,  as  Foster  and  his  fifty  horse- 
men disappeared  in  the  night,  the  major  stood  at 
the  edge  of  the  bluff*  looking  out  to  the  north  with 
an  eager  group  around  him, — Captains  Raymond 
and  Turner,  whose  companies  had  silently  assem- 
bled under  arms  and  were  waiting  for  orders 
within  the  quadrangle  of  the  garrison,  and  here 
were  the  adjutant  and  quartermaster  and  a  lieu- 
tenant or  two.  There  was  little  talking  going  on, — 
all  were  listening  intently  for  sounds  from  the 
north  or  sight  of  further  firing.  One  or  two  of 
the  Santa  Anita  prospectors  had  mounted  and 
gone  out  after  Foster,  but  the  mass  of  the  refugees 
still  clustered  along  the  bluff,  chatting  in  low,  eager 
tones.  If  any  one  voice  was  especially  prominent 
it  was  Muncey's,  and  like  most  men  given  to 
chatter  he  found  only  an  impatient  audience.  "  I 
tell  you,"  said  he  for  the  third  time,  "  there  can't 
be  less  than  a  hundred  of  them  Tontos  out  there 
DOW.     They  just  want  a  single  troox3  or  even  two 

18 


206  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

to  come  and  tackle  'em  in  the  dark,"  and  now  he 
had  raised  his  voice  still  higher  and  was  talking 
for  the  benefit  of  the  major,  who  had  been  per- 
sistent in  avoiding  him  and  had  twice  pointedly- 
begged  him  not  to  intrude  upon  the  council  of  the 
officers.  "  They've  just  lined  the  rocks  and  the 
roadside  out  there,  and  are  simply  laying  for  a 
chance  to  ambush  the  whole  crowd.  What  Fd 
'a'  done  would  be  to  send  two  hundred  men  out 
deployed  as  skirmishers  and  swept  the  hull  bottom, 
— north  and  west  too." 

These  remarks  were  rewarded  by  his  companions 
with  a  contemptuous  sniff,  or  a  nervous,  half- 
jeering  titter.  "You  ought  to  have  been  a  gen- 
eral, Muncey, — that's  what's  the  matter  with  you. 
There  ain't  Apaches  enough  in  all  Arizona  to  dare 
a  fight  in  the  open — day  or  night — with  fifty  white 
men,  soldiers  or  cits.  No  Apache  plans  a  fight 
that's  going  to  get  him  liable  to  be  shot.  The 
kind  of  fighting  he  likes  is  from  behind  rocks  and 
trees,  and  there  ain't  rocks  and  trees  enough  out 
there  to  cover  a  dozen  of  'em.  I'm  betting  the 
firing  was  done  by  some  party  as  badly  scared  as 
you  were  yis'day  morning.  I'm  betting  they  just 
thought  some  skulking  lynx  was  an  Apache  and 
let  drive  a  volley  into  the  dark.  The  sentry  says 
the  shots  were  all  bunched.  You  know  and  I 
know  the  Apaches  don't  own  a  breech-loader" 
(this  was  early  in  the  '70's),  "so  most  of  it  must 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  207 

have  been  done  by  white  men  or  '  Greasers'  like 
that  gang  you  trained  with  last  year,  instead  of 
herding  with  your  own  kind." 

Evidently  this  allusion  was  a  stinger.  There 
was  a  burst  of  laughter,  more  or  less  jeering  and 
unsympathetic,  under  shower  of  which  Muncey 
turned  angrily  away.  He  went  over  towards  the 
group  of  officers,  but  at  sight  of  him  the  major 
lifted  a  warning  hand  and  lowered  his  voice. 
"  Here's  that  fellow  Muncey  again,"  said  he,  "  and 
I  distrust  him  somehow."  Everybody  seemed  to 
turn  an  unsociable  back  on  the  new-comer,  and 
presently,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  he  pulled 
his  old  felt  hat  lower  over  his  eyes,  thrust  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  and  slouched  away  down  the 
slope  in  the  direction  of  the  corral,  within  whose 
adobe  walls  the  horses  and  mules  of  the  refugees 
were  sheltered. 

And  now  came  on  a  night  of  no  little  excite- 
ment even  for  Arizona  in  the  heart  of  the  Apache 
country.  Full  three-quarters  of  an  hour  after 
Foster  and  his  men  rode  away  there  were  strange 
silence  and  eager  waiting  at  the  post.  Taps  had 
sounded  just  before  they  left.  Half-past  ten 
o'clock,  called  by  the  sentries,  had  gone  echoing 
away  across  the  still  and  starlit  mesa  and  not  a 
sound  or  sign  came  from  the  front.  Then  sud- 
denly far  out  through  the  darkness  there  was 
faintly  audible  the  thud  of  hoofs,  and  a  minute  or 


208  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

SO  brought  the  rider — full  canter — into  their  midst. 
He  could  barely  rein  in  his  horse  at  the  hail  of  the 
major's  party.  Everybody — officers,  civilians,  and 
even  soldiers — seem  to  swarm  about  the  courier  in 
an  instant.  It  was  Corporal  Foley  of  Foster's  troop. 
Kecognizing  the  major,  he  threw  himself  from  the 
saddle  and  stood  respectfully  before  the  com- 
mander, handing  him  a  pencilled  note,  which  the 
major  eagerly  opened  and  read,  all  eyes  upon  him. 
"We  found  two  Mexicans,"  it  said,  "with  a 
camp  outfit.  Thej  were  badly  frightened,  but 
unhurt.  They  declare  they  were  attacked  by 
Apaches,  who  succeeded  in  running  off  two  mules. 
They  say  the  Indians  drew  away  north-west  towards 
the  Sandy,  and  that  there  was  a  party  of  pros- 
pectors and  packers  camped  at  Raton  Springs, 
eight  miles  out,  who  were  warned  of  the  outbreak, 
but  who  wouldn't  believe  it.  The  Mexicans  said 
they  were  trying  to  reach  the  post  when  headed 
off,  and  that  there  were  enough  Apaches  to  wipe 
out  that  party.  They  themselves  only  escaped  by 
hiding  among  the  rocks  down  in  the  deep  ravine. 
Their  story  is  told  with  such  earnestness  that  I 
have  deemed  it  best  to  push  on  in  search  of  the 
prospectors  referred  to.  We  should  reach  the 
Springs  soon  after  midnight.  The  Mexicans  go 
with  us  in  hopes  of  recovering  their  mules. 
(Signed)  "  Foster, 

"  Commanding  troop." 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  209 

"Come  with  me,  gentlemen,"  said  the  major,  after 
a  moment's  thought.  "  This  is  something  I'll  have 
to  talk  over  with  you.  No,"  he  continued,  as 
many  of  the  frontiersmen,  too,  showed  evident  in- 
clination to  consider  themselves  included  in  the  in- 
vitation. "  Excuse  me  now  if  I  have  to  talk  with 
my  officers  a  moment.  There  is  no  news,  except  that 
Captain  Foster  has  found  a  couple  of  Mexicans  who 
claim  to  have  been  jumped  by  Apaches,  and  who 
say  the  Indians  have  gone  to  attack  a  small  camp 
of  prospectors  at  Raton  Springs.  Do  you  know 
any  miners  or  prospectors  who  could  be  there  ?" 

A  general  shaking  of  heads  followed.  No  one 
knew.  One  or  two  went  so  far  as  to  say  they 
didn't  believe  it.  "  Wliat  sort  of  looking  fellows 
were  the  Mexicans,  corporal?"  asked  Ferguson, 
the  brainiest,  apparently,  of  the  civilians. 

"  Oh,  insignificant  little  runts,  both  of  them," 
said  Foley.  "  One  of  them  spoke  English  enough 
to  make  himself  understood,  the  other  could  only 
jabber  some  lingo  I  didn't  know  no  more  of  than 
I  do  of  Mexican.  So  far  as  I  could  make  out 
they  had  all  been  travelling  together,  but  when 
the  bigger  part  of  the  crowd  stopped  to  camp  at 
the  Springs  these  two  fellows  came  ahead, — said 
they  were  afraid  to  stay  there  after  what  they  had 
heard  of  the  outbreak." 

"Well,  where  did  they  hear  and  how?"  asked 
Ferguson. 

0  18* 


210  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

"  Tliey  said  that  they  met  some  of  tlie  couriers 
from  Prescott  and  some  prospectors  who  were 
driven  back  from  the  Clear  Creek  country — ^who 
were  skipping  for  the  settlements.  They  told  the 
couriers  that  they  were  going  in,  but  despite  that 
they  came  on  down  to  the  Sj^rings." 

"  Queer  !"  said  Ferguson,  reflectively.  "  The 
only  Mexicans  in  the  Santa  Anita  country  were 
those  half-dozen  that  Muncey  was  mixed  up  with, 
— Manuel's  lot, — and  a  scrubby  lot  they  were; 
but  they  went  off  to  Tucson  over  two  months  ago, 
seems  to  me." 

"What,  the  same  Manuel  that  said  he  was 
brother-in-law  to  MacNutt, — Muncey's  partner  ?" 

"  The  same.  I  heard  he  took  Mac's  boy  back 
to  Sonora  with  him,  and  that  the  kid  didn't  want 
to  go  at  all." 

"Indeed  he  didn't!"  answered  Foley,  stoutly, 
"for  he's  worked  his  way  back  to  the  old  post 
inside  of  a  month.  He's  down  there  now  with 
the  ordnance  sergeant." 

"  Yes,  and  Muncey  was  pretending  to  be  sur- 
prised when  he  heard  of  it  to-night;  and  there 
was  two  letters  came  to  him  from  Tucson  last  week 
that  prob'ly  told  him  all  about  it,  though  I  don't 
suppose  Manuel  could  write.  AVhere'd  Muncey 
go  to,  anyhow?"  broke  off  Ferguson,  suddenly. 
"  I  reckon  he  knows  where  those  fellows  are  if 
anybody  does." 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  211 

"Gone  to  get  a  bracer,"  laughed  one  of  the 
miners.  "  Muneey's  nerve  ain't  what  it  used  to 
be,  and  he's  rattled  to-night.  He's  been  shaky 
ever  since  that  cloud-burst  swept  his  partner  into 
eternity  two  years  ago.  I  never  understood  what 
drew  them  together ;  Mac  was  a  square  man  and 
a  hard  worker,  and,  what's  more,  everything  they 
had  in  the  way  of  an  outfit  was  bought  with  his 
money, — wagons,  mules,  burros,  grub,  tent,  and 
tools, — it  was  all  Mac's,  and  he  had  some  coin  and 
gold-dust  besides.  Yet,  when  Captain  Cullen 
tried  to  get  hold  of  it  for  the  boy,  nothing  could 
be  found  that  Muncey  hadn't  a  lien  on, — him  and 
that  damn  little  '  Greaser'  brother-in-law  of  Mac's, 
— what's  his  name  ? — Manuel  Cardoza." 

"  Cardoza  ?"  exclaimed  Corporal  Foley.  "  Man- 
uel Cardoza  ?  Why,  that's  the  name  of  the  boss  of 
this  party  up  near  Raton  Springs  where  *  G'  Troop's 
gone, — I  heard  it  given  to  Captain  Foster  twice." 

Ferguson  turned  quickly  around.  He  had  been 
standing  facing  the  north,  keeping  intent  watch  in 
the  direction  taken  by  the  troopers.  Now  he 
whirled  on  the  corporal.  "  Are  you  sure  of  that  ?" 
he  said.  "By  the  great  jumping  Jehosaphat! 
that  means  something  I  hadn't  thought  of.  Mun- 
cey swore  to  me  that  they  had  gone  to  Sonora  and 
wouldn't  return  till  October,  but  the  boy  got  away 
and  came  back.  And  he's  over  there  at  the  old 
post  now — to-night  ?" 


212  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

"  That's  just  where  he  is,  or  was  yes'day  morn- 
ing," said  Foley.  "  We  haven't  heard  from  them 
since." 

"  And  Manuel  Cardoza  had  a  pack  of  Mexicans 
at  Raton  Springs  at  sunset,  did  he  ?  and  wouldn't 
run  for  shelter  here  even  when  he  knew  the  whole 
Tonto  tribe  was  on  the  war-path?"  He  turned 
again  northward  and  gazed  out  over  the  inter- 
vening silence  and  space  to  where  the  huge  bulk 
of  the  Socorro  loomed  up  against  the  polar  sky. 
Cassiopeia's  Chair,  traced  by  clear,  twinkling  stars, 
was  resting  along  the  black  backbone  of  the  range. 
"  The  old  Tonto  trail,  from  the  Springs  to  the  foot 
of  Apache  Canon,  burrows  right  through  those 
hills,"  said  he.  "  The  Springs  lie  not  more'n  six 
miles  to  the  left  around  that  point.  The  miserable 
*  Greasers^  didn't  dare  go  through  Apache  Cafion, 
and  they  didn't  want  to  be  seen  over  here.  I'll 
bet  what  you  like  they're  bound  for  the  old  post — 
and  another  attempt  to  nab  Leon.  Now,  boys,  I 
want  just  a  minute's  talk  with  two  men, — one  of 
'em.  Major  Thornton ;  the  other's  Muncey." 

Major  Thornton  was  found  in  less  than  a  minute, 
but  not  so  Muncey.  When  midnight  came  it  was 
definitely  settled  that  Muncey  was  gone;  so  was 
Ferguson's  pet  roan,  the  fleetest  horse  of  the 
Santa  Anita  mines. 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  summer  night  was  still  young.  The  sen- 
tries had  passed  the  call  of  "  Twelve  o'clock  and 
all's  well,"  despite  the  fact  that  Trooper  Casey,  on 
post  at  the  corral,  felt  vaguely  assured  that  all 
wasn't  well,  with  him,  at  least.  "  My  orders  are 
to  take  charge  of  this  post  and  all  government 
property  in  view,"  he  had  begun  when  questioned 
by  the  officer  of  the  day,  and  as  Ferguson's  horse 
wasn't  government  property,  he  might  have  wrig- 
gled out  of  his  predicament  under  that  head  were 
there  not  other  clauses  in  his  orders  which  he  knew 
as  well  as  did  the  officer  of  the  day.  One  of  these 
read,  "Allow  no  horse  to  be  taken  out  of  the 
corral  between  tattoo  and  reveille  except  in  pres- 
ence of  a  commissioned  officer,  the  quartermaster- 
sergeant,  or  the  corporal  of  the  guard ;"  and  as 
Ferguson's  horse  could  neither  have  climbed  nor 
jumped  a  nine-foot-high  adobe  wall,  the  conclu- 
sion was  irresistible  that  he  had  been  led  or  ridden 
out  through  the  gate-way,  and  it  was  the  sentry's 
business  to  see  and  stop  him.     There  were  still 

213 


214  SIGNAL   BUTTE. 

other  orders  bearing  on  the  case.  The  man  Mun- 
cey  must  have  crossed  the  sentry's  post  both  when 
he  entered  and  when  he  left  the  corral,  and  the 
sentry's  orders  forbade  his  allowing  any  person  to 
pass  without  the  countersign, — the  password  for 
the  night, — with  which  only  certain  few  of  the 
officers  and  the  guard  were  intrusted.  The  post 
commander  had  permitted  the  prospectors  to  turn 
their  horses  and  mules  into  the  big  new  corral,  a 
privilege  of  which  they  had  eagerly  availed  them- 
selves, but  the  quartermaster-sergeant  and  his  men, 
who  slept  ordinarily  in  a  tent  j^itched  just  within 
the  gate-way,  had  not  slept  at  all  this  night,  but, 
in  common  with  those  members  of  the  garrison 
who  were  not  actually  in  ranks  awaiting  orders, 
were  out  somewhere  along  that  northward  bluff, 
watching  eagerly  for  further  sign  from  the  front. 
The  plain  truth  of  the  matter  was  that  Casey,  too, 
instead  of  watching  the  corral,  kept  as  much  as 
possible  at  the  northward  end  of  his  post  where 
he  could  see  or  hear  what  might  be  going  on  in 
that  quarter.  And  so  had  it  happened  that  the 
corral  was  left  practically  unguarded,  and  Muncey 
had  been  enabled  to  enter  and  quit  at  his  own 
sweet  will. 

It  wouldn't  help  Casey  to  say  he  didn't  see  or 
didn't  hear:  school-boy  excuses  are  not  accepted 
in  the  army.  A  sentry  must  see  and  must  hear 
even  in  nights  as  dark  as  Erebus  and  blustering 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  215 

as  a  boiler-sliop,  which  this  summer  night  was 
not.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  soft  and  still  and 
starlit.  There  was  no  moon,  but  the  sky  was 
cloudless,  and  had  Casey  used  even  ordinary  vigil- 
ance, no  one  without  his  knowledge  could  have 
trespassed  on  his  guarded  land.  At  12.30,  when 
the  third  relief  came  around.  Private  Meisner 
took  Casey's  post,  and  the  latter  was  in  no  sense 
surprised,  though  wofully  disturbed,  to  find  that 
the  moment  the  old  relief  was  inspected  and  dis- 
missed at  the  guard-house  the  sergeant  of  the 
guard  had  ordered  his  belts  taken  off, — and  that 
is  the  soldier  way  of  saying  that  the  ex-sentry  was 
to  be  relieved  as  untrustworthy, — his  arms  and 
equij^ments  turned  over  to  his  first  sergeant,  and 
he  himself  turned  over  to  the  charge  of  his  fellow- 
members  of  the  guard, — a  prisoner  awaiting  trial 
by  court-martial  for  neglect  of  duty.  Everybody 
felt  sorry  for  Casey,  who  had  lost  a  good  reputa- 
tion, but  sorrier  for  Ferguson,  who  had  lost  what 
was  considered  of  even  greater  worth  in  the  old 
frontier  days, — a  fine  horse.  Even  as  Casey  was 
ruefully  slipping  out  of  his  carbine-sling  and 
waist-belt,  Ferguson  and  others,  with  lanterns, 
were  tracing  the  hoof-prints  of  the  beautiful  roan. 
Out  from  the  corral  gate,  around  by  the  south  wall 
they  followed  them  in  the  soft,  dusty  soil,  but  they 
were  soon  lost  along  the  slope.  No  one  believed 
for  a  moment  that  Muncey  had  ridden  eastward 


216  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

any  distance,  however.  That  was  the  quarter  from 
which  the  Apaches  had  come.  Westward  along 
the  south  face  of  the  Socorro  was  his  prohable 
course,  for  if  Cardoza  had  slipped  through  from 
the  Springs  towards  the  old  post,  as  now  seemed 
possible,  they  could  meet  at  the  fords  of  the 
Sandy  not  a  mile  from  where  the  dim  lights  were 
twinkling  there  at  old  Retribution  earlier  in  the 
evening,  not  half  a  mile  from  the  base  of  Signal 
Butte,  and  barely  short  rifle-shot  from  old  Sergeant 
Kelly's  ranch. 

And  now  the  question  arose,  where  were  the 
Apaches  ?  The  miners  and  prospectors  who  had 
fled  from  the  Santa  Anita  said  they  fairly  swarmed 
in  that  valley,  fifty  miles  to  the  east.  The  de- 
spatches from  department  head-quarters  represented 
them  as  having  already,  at  three  different  points, 
swooped  down  upon  the  Prescott  road  both  east 
and  west  of  the  Sandy ;  but  so  far  as  heard  from 
they  had  not  ventured  into  the  valley  south  of  the 
Socorro  Range, — a  cluster  of  rough,  rocky,  pine- 
crested  upheavals  that  bulged  out  eastward  from 
the  main  range,  jutting  like  some  huge  promon- 
tory into  the  Tonto  Basin.  It  was  through  a  rift 
in  this  clump  from  the  Raton  Springs  to  the  site 
of  old  Retribution  that  the  Tonto  trail  of  past  gen- 
erations ran,  and  through  another,  still  farther  to 
the  west,  a  deep  jagged  fissure  in  the  bed-rock, 
that  the  Sandy  foamed  and  chafed  and  tore, — the 


SIGNAL   BUTTE,  217 

ill-favored  Apache  Canon.  Fifty  miles  north  of 
the  Socorro,  on  the  banks  of  the  same  stream  and 
in  the  very  heart  of  the  Apache  country,  was  a 
military  post  somewhat  larger  than  Retribution, — 
old  Camp  Sandy, — and  there  were  stationed  the 
head-quarters  and  four  strong  troops  of  the  new 
regiment  that  had  replaced  the  Eleventh  Cavalry, 
all  commanded  by  Colonel  Pelham.  Thornton,  at 
Ketribution,  felt  well  assured  that  by  this  time 
Pelham  would  be  pushing  out  his  scouting  parties 
after  the  Tonto  raiders  and  that  between  Sandy 
and  Retribution  they  could  make  it  very  lively  for 
the  Indians  in  a  day  or  two,  but  meantime,  should 
they  work  around  into  the  Sandy  valley,  south  of 
the  old  post,  just  as  Captain  Raymond  said, — 
"  Heaven  help  the  scattered  settlers  there !" 

"  If  they  reach  the  lower  Sandy  by  night  or 
day,"  were  the  major's  orders  to  Lieutenant  Crane, 
who  commanded  the  guard  at  the  old  site,  "  don't 
wait  an  instant.  Fire  the  beacon  on  Signal 
Butte." 

And  now  one  o'clock  of  the  hot  June  night  had 
come.  There  had  been  skirmishing  to  the  north, — 
a  chase  to  the  north-west, — signal-fires  ablaze  to  the 
east,  across  the  broad  basin.  Couriers  had  been 
pushed  out  north-westward  after  Foster  with  news 
of  Muncey's  bolt  and  information  as  to  the  Car- 
doza  party.  Ferguson  and  two  friends — daring 
fellows,  well  armed  and  mounted — had  just  left 

K  19 


218  SIGNAL   BUTTE. 

the  post  determined  to  ride  westward  in  the  hopes 
of  overhauling  Muncey  and — well, — hanging  was 
the  horse-thief's  penalty  in  those  days.  The 
troops  of  the  garrison — arms  and  equipments  close 
at  hand — were  sj^rawled  about  the  verandas  of  the 
new  quarters,  eager  for  the  order  to  saddle,  and 
the  major  had  just  despatched  a  messenger  to  say 
to  the  captain  that  the  men  might  as  well  turn  in 
for  the  night,  when  once  again  there  came  the 
clear  and  ringing  summons  for  the  corporal  of  the 
guard, — this  time  from  the  westward  bluff.  Those 
who  happened  to  be  nearest  that  side  of  the  gar- 
rison had  already,  before  the  cry,  heard  the  sharp, 
stern  challenge,  "  Who  comes  there  ?" 

Even  before  the  major's  little  party  could  reach 
the  north  side,  the  trim  figure  of  Corporal  Lynch 
came  bounding  back  up  the  slope.  "  What  was 
the  matter,  corporal  ?"  hailed  the  post  commander, 
and  Lynch,  halting  short,  brought  his  carbine  to 
the  carry  and  his  gloved  left  hand  to  the  salute, 
replying  with  soldierly  brevity, — 

"  It's  MacDuff,  sir." 

"  MacDuff?     You  mean  little  Leon  ?" 

"Yes,  sir, — with  a  note  for  the  doctor.  He 
stopj^ed  to  water  Sergeant  Kelly's  broncho  at  the 
Springs." 

Another  minute  and  riding  briskly  up  from  the 
dark  low  ground  to  the  west  of  the  mesa  came  the 
lithe,  swarthy  young  courier  himself.     He  reined 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  219 

in  the  instant  he  heard  the  major's  voice  and 
threw  himself  from  saddle. 

"  What  on  earth  brought  you  here  at  this  time, 
Leon  ?" 

"  Mrs.  Downey,  sir,  was  very  sick.  The  folks 
from  Downey's  ranch  all  came  up  to  the  post  at 
dark, — said  they  didn'c  dare  stay, — the  Apaches 
wore  surely  in  the  valley,  and  they  got  word  some- 
how they  were  everywhere  along  the  north  face  of 
the  Socorro,  and  Sergeant  Kelly  sent  the  girls  in 
to  the  post  from  his  ranch,  but  Mrs.  Kelly  wouldn't 
leave  him.  She  stayed  there.  There's  really  no 
place  around  the  old  post  for  women  to  stay,  but 
they've  got  them  into  a  tent  for  the  night.  They 
daren't  remain  at  the  farm-house  up  by  the  cafion, 
and  the  lieutenant  couldn't  detach  any  men  as 
guard, — he  needs  them  all  at  the  post,  where  the 
stores  are  still  in  the  magazine.  Mrs.  Downey 
was  in  such  pain  that  we  were  all  worried  about 
her,  so  I  borrowed  the  pony  without  saying  any- 
thing to  Sergeant  Kelly  and  came  up  to  get  some 
medicine." 

"Well.  Great  Scott!  boy,  that's  taking  tall 
chances,"  said  the  major.  "Didn't  you  see  or 
hear  anybody  ?" 

"  A  fellow  passed  me  riding  like  mad  about  five 
or  six  miles  out,  sir.  I  heard  him  coming  and 
slipped  off  the  road  a  few  yards,  not  knowing  who 
it  might  be,  and  then  just  a  few  minutes  ago  I  was 


220  SIGNAL   BUTTE. 

halted  by  three  cits, — said  they  were  looking  for 
a  horse-thief,  but  I  wasn't  the  one  they  were  in 
search  of." 

Meantime,  the  doctor  had  taken  Downey's  note 
and  was  trying  by  the  light  of  the  guard  lantern 
to  decipher  the  ill-written  scrawl.  *'  She  has  had 
the  same  trouble  before,"  said  he,  "  and  I  can  give 
her  the  medicine  she  needs,  Leon,  but  you  oughtn't 
to  risk  going  back  to-night." 

"Oh,  I've  simply  got  to  go,  doctor,"  said  the 
boy,  eagerly.  "  Mrs,  Downey  has  always  been 
mighty  kind  to  Randy  and  me.  She  always  gave 
us  lunch  at  her  ranch  when  we  were  down  there 
fishing,  and  I  told  her  I'd  fetch  the  medicine  before 
daybreak  or  get  nabbed  trying.  Why,  the  Indians 
themselves  don't  know  the  country  around  here 
better  than  Randy  and  I  do,  though  I've  never 
been  out  this  far  at  night." 

The  major,  too,  interposed  an  objection.  "I 
feel  that  we  are  responsible  for  you,  Leon,  until 
Major  Cullen  gets  back  and  claims  you.  It  isn't 
Apaches  only  to  be  avoided.  They  tell  me  your 
Uncle  Manuel  is  here  again,  and  the  man  you  met 
riding  full  tilt  was  your  father's  old  partner, 
Muncey, — going  to  meet  Manuel,  I  judge,  some- 
where on  the  old  Tonto  trail  through  the  Socorro. 

Then,  indeed,  Leon  looked  very  grave.  "  I'm 
more  afraid  of  them  than  I  am  of  Apaches,"  he 
said.      "They  don't   mean   to   take   me   back   to 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  221 

mother's  people.  I  shouldn't  want  to  go  if  they 
did.  I'm  a  Yankee  like  father,  and  I  want  to  stay 
here  and  grow  up  in  the  cavalry.  Randy  and  I  are 
going  to  enlist  just  as  soon  as  we're  eighteen.  But 
all  the  same  I  promised  Mrs.  Downey  she  should 
have  that  medicine  before  day,  and  I'm  going." 

And  so,  seeing  how  earnest  the  boy  was  and 
recognizing  from  his  description  that  Mrs.  Downey 
must  be  in  great  pain,  the  major  reluctantly 
assented.  "I'd  send  a  coujdIc  of  men  back  with 
you,  lad,  but  'tisn't  likely  the  Indians  are  any- 
where along  the  road  between  two  parties  of  troops, 
— I  don't  think  they'd  risk  that.  At  all  events, 
we'd  probably  have  known  it  before  if  they  were. 
We  are  all  up  here  yet,  waiting  further  news  from 
Captain  Foster.  Mrs.  Foster  is  out  there  on  her 
piazza  now,  so  you  might  see  her  while  you're 
waiting.  Then  come  over  to  my  house  and  have 
some  coffee  before  you  start." 

It  was  just  1.30  by  the  guard-house  clock 
when  once  again  the  young  courier  mounted  his 
wiry  pony  and  started  for  the  ten-mile  ride  back. 
He  went  loping  away  down  the  starlit  slope,  the 
phial  wrapped  in  his  saddle-bag,  after  a  hurried 
good-by,  his  black  eyes  gleaming,  his  white  teeth 
firmly  set. 

"  Good  grit, — that  boy,"  said  the  major,  looking 
after  him.  "  I  wouldn't  mind  having  him  for  my 
own." 

19* 


222  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

"Good  grit,  indeed,"  said  Eaymond.  "Most 
boys  I  know  would  rather  do  anything  than  risk 
that  ride  in  the  dark  in  the  midst  of  an  Indian 
scare.     What  time  ought  he  to  get  there  ?" 

"  Well,  his  pony's  fresh  and  speedy, — by  3  or 
3.15  at  latest.    Now  it's  time  to  hear  from  Foster." 

They  were  walking  slowly  back  to  the  porch  of 
his  unfinished  quarters  as  they  talked, — he,  his 
adjutant,  and  his  especial  friend.  Captain  Raymond. 
Quiet  had  settled  down  on  the  post.  Wearied 
with  watching,  almost  everybody  had  gone  to  get 
such  sleep  as  was  possible,  but  the  guard  and  a  few 
officers  still  remained  wide  awake.  Mrs.  Foster, 
unable  to  control  her  anxiety,  was  still  restlessly 
pacing  the  veranda  or  rocking  in  her  big  chair, 
and  the  officer  of  the  day,  returning  from  a  tour 
of  the  sentry  posts,  was  standing  on  the  walk  and 
saying  some  reassuring  words  when  the  post  com- 
mander and  his  party  came  along. 

"  I  feel  dreadfully  nervous  about  that  boy, 
major,"  said  she.  "  Of  course  it  was  all  very 
brave  of  him  to  take  such  a  risk  for  Mrs.  Downey's 
sake,  but  when  Indians  have  dared  to  come  within 
a  mile  of  us,  what's  to  prevent  their  being  all  along 
that  westward  road  now  ?  Couldn't  you  have  sent 
a  few  men  ?" 

"  Could,  perhaps,"  said  the  major,  with  an  air 
that  betrayed  just  a  little  how  much  he  resented 
it   that   any   of  the    ladies    should   question   his 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  223 

judgment,  "  but  there  are  two  reasons  why  I  didn't, 
— more  than  two,  in  fact.  In  the  first  place,  the 
boy  had  just  come  safely  in  over  the  road,  and 
that  shows  that  it  is  probably  safe  for  to-night  at 
least.  Even  Apaches  have  to  sleep  sometimes,  you 
know.  In  the  second  place,  Caj)tain  Foster  has 
driven  ahead  of  him  any  Indians  that  might  have 
been  out  here  to  the  north, — if,  indeed,  those 
Mexicans  weren't  shooting  at  spooks.  We  have 
only  their  word  for  it,  you  know,  that  there  were 
any  Tontos  at  all." 

"They  ran  off  two  mules,"  interposed  Mrs. 
Foster,  impetuously. 

"  Wait  a  moment.  The  Mexicans  say  they  did, 
but  I've  known  these  '  Greasers'  to  lie  like  Ananias 
already,  and  we've  only  been  here  a  few  weeks. 
Even  if  they  had  had  two  mules  and  a  boy,  what 
was  to  prevent  the  mules  stampeding  into  the  hills 
on  their  own  account,  and  hiding  in  some  ravine 
to  the  west  of  the  road  as  their  owners  did  to  the 
east?" 

"  But  Captain  Foster  wouldn't  chase  spooks  all 
night,"  said  the  lady,  rocking  rapidly  and  ex- 
citedly now.  She  was  full  of  conviction  that  the 
Apaches  were  all  around  them,  and  there  was  no 
comfort  in  being  argued  out  of  the  idea. 

"  Captain  Foster,"  replied  the  major,  "  knows  as 
well  as  we  do  from  official  reports  that  the  Indians 
have  raided  the  mines  and  the  Prescott  road,  and 


224  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

he  has  gone  on, — like  the  good  soldier  he  is,"  added 
he,  diplomatically,  "  to  warn  or  rescue  these  other 
parties,  if  they  really  exist,  and  stir  up  the  Indians 
if  they  get  in  his  way.  South  of  that  curtain  of 
mountains,"  he  continued,  pointing  to  the  black 
mass  of  the  Socorro,  "  and  behind  your  husband's 
skirmish  line,  we  are  free  from  danger.  West  of 
this  post,  which  guards  the  descent  to  the  Sandy 
valley,  no  Indian  is  going  to  be  fool  enough  to 
venture  unless  he's  doubly  Tonto,  which  I'm  told 
means  mad.  Now,  my  advice  to  the  wife  of  my 
good  friend  Captain  Foster  is  that  she  go  to  bed 
and  sleep.     That's  what  I  mean  to  do." 

"  But,  major,"  persisted  Mrs.  Foster,  "  suppose 
Leon  should  be  cut  off  by — by  anybody.  He 
told  me  you  said  his  Mexican  uncle  was  again 
here  trying  to  capture  him.  Suppose  he  shouldn't 
reach  the  old  post  by  three  o'clock  or  later, — how 
would  you  know  ?" 

"  Ah,  I  thought  of  all  that.  I  told  him  to  start 
a  fire  under  what's  left  of  that  old  stack  of  con- 
demned hay  the  moment  he  got  in.  The  sentries 
out  here  on  three  and  four  have  already  received 
orders  to  watch  for  a  fire  at  the  old  post.  If  they 
don't  see  it  by  3.30  at  the  latest  we'll  start  a  party 
in  search.  But  that  fire'll  be  there  all  right.  Good- 
night, Mrs.  Foster.     Now,  don't  worry." 

But  Mrs.  Foster  did  worry.  She  worried  about 
Leon,  exposed   as   she  believed  to   danger   from 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  225 

two  sources.  She  worried  about  her  husband,  even 
though  her  native  common  sense  told  her  it  was 
not  likely  so  strong  a  command  as  his  company- 
would  meet  with  Apaches  that  night.  If  Apaches 
were  in  the  neighborhood  they  would  be  apt  to 
keep  well  out  of  the  way.  She  worried  so  that 
even  by  two  o'clock  when  she  retired  to  her  own 
room  she  could  not  sleep. 

But  she  worried  even  less  than  her  friend  the 
major,  who  found  himself  too  uneasy  to  lie  down 
at  all.  Bidding  good-night  to  the  three  officers, 
he  had  gone  to  his  quarters,  and  as  he  took  a  final 
look  out  over  the  silent  and  shadowy  parade, 
thanked  goodness  Mrs.  Thornton  and  the  children 
were  safe  in  the  East.  Not  that  they  would  have 
been  in  any  particular  danger  at  Ketribution,  but 
because  they'd  be  in  the  way  just  now,  and  women 
and  children  will  ask  questions  that  are  hard  to 
answer,  especially  of  a  post  commander.  "  Con- 
found the  Apaches  and  Muncey  and  Manuel  Car- 
doza!"  said  he;  "and  especially  Mrs.  Downey. 
What  on  earth  did  she  get  sick  for  and  have  that 
boy  risking  his  young  life  to  fetch  her  a  camphor 
julep  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  ?"  He  wished 
he  had  sent  a  sergeant  and  ten  men  back  with  him. 
If  Apaches  really  were  in  the  Sandy  valley,  Crane 
would  need  reinforcements  anyhow, — only  he  hated 
to  "  rout  out"  men  and  horses  in  that  heathenish 
way  long  after  midnight.  If  anything  should  go 
p 


226  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

wrong  with  Leon,  how  his  old  friend  Cullen  would 
blame  him!  He  looked  at  his  watch.  Only  a 
little  after  two.  A  whole  hour  to  wait  before  he 
could  hear  of  the  boy's  safe  return,  but  surely 
something  should  be  heard  from  Foster.  It  couldn't 
take  his  couriers  two  hours  to  ride  back  in  the 
night  from  Katon  Springs. 

Lighting  his  pipe,  the  major  once  more  went 
out  into  the  still  night  air.  Over  at  the  guard- 
house the  lights  burned  dimly,  and  he  could  see 
the  shadowy  form  of  the  sentry  on  No.  1  slowly 
pacing  his  post.  Stepping  out  upon  the  parade, 
he  noted  that  only  in  one  or  two  of  the  windows 
were  the  night-lights  still  burning.  Earlier  in 
the  night  signal-fires  could  be  seen  far  over  to  the 
south-east  in  the  Sierra  Ancha,  but  they  had 
dwindled  away.  Everything  about  the  garrison 
seemed  to  speak  of  calm  and  security,  yet  along 
the  porticos  of  the  opposite  barracks,  and  in  their 
bunks  within,  a  hundred  stalwart  men  lay  drowsing, 
with  their  arms  close  at  hand.  Many  of  them  had 
not  even  kicked  off  their  boots.  "  Number  One. 
Half-past  two  o'clock,"  rang  the  call  of  the  sentry 
at  the  guard-house.  Then  Number  Two  took  it 
up  over  at  the  south-west,  adding  in  cheery,  reso- 
nant tone,  "  A-a-ll's  we-11."  Number  Three,  far 
out  on  the  west  front, — one  of  the  sentries  warned 
to  watch  for  Leon's  signal, — came  next,  and  he, 
too,  piped  his  soldier  lay  prompt  and  clear  and 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  227 

confident.  Tlien  came  Number  Four,  at  the  north- 
west,— he  who  had  the  best  view  of  the  distant 
valley  of  the  Sandy  and  the  bold  outlines  of  Signal 
Butte, — a  big,  burly  German,  he,  and  his  deep 
bass  voice  rolled  out  like  the  bellow  of  a  bull, 
"Holluf  bahst  doo  o'glock,  unt  a-a-wl's  veil." 
Over  at  the  guard-house  the  men  of  the  first  relief 
were  already  turning  out  preparatory  to  being 
inspected  and  marched  off  to  relieve  the  members 
of  the  third,  who  had  gone  on  at  12.30,  and  as 
big  Stromberg's  resonant  bellow  went  echoing  away 
to  the  Socorro,  there  was  audible  titter  and  laughing 
imitation  of  his  German  accent,  and  then  sternly 
the  sergeant's  voice  ordered,  "Shut  up  there! 
Stop  that  noise !" 

The  call  had  stopped  short  with  Number  Four. 
Not  a  sound  had  come  from  Number  Five. 
"  Who's  Number  Five  on  your  relief?"  asked  the 
sergeant,  sharply. 

"  Ruckel ;  the  new  man,"  replied  the  corporal, 
already  picking  up  his  carbine,  but  listening  in- 
tently. 

"E-uckel's  a  snoozer,"  laughed  the  boy  trum- 
peter, nervously. 

"  Silence,  you !  Quick,  corporal !"  said  the 
sergeant.  "  The  man  couldn't  sleep  through  that 
Dutchman's  yell." 

Promptly  the  corporal  went  bounding  across 
the  parade,  the  short-cut  to  the  north  side,  and 


228  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

Major  Thornton — some  strange  fear  hammering 
at  his  heart — fast  as  he  could  walk  had  hurried 
around  to  the  back  of  his  quarters  where  once 
more  he  could  see  the  polar  constellations  shimmer- 
ing over  the  Socorro,  and  the  dim,  vague,  shadowy- 
lowland  stretching  away  from  the  slope  at  his  very 
feet.  Already  big  Stromberg  had  begun  to  repeat 
his  call,  in  Teutonic  observance  of  the  order  that 
if  the  next  sentry  failed  to  pass  it,  it  should  be 
repeated  once  so  as  to  be  sure  that  it  was  heard. 
Already  Number  Six,  far  around  at  the  corral,  had 
lifted  up  a  shout  for  the  corporal,  convinced  that 
something  must  be  wrong  with  Five.  But  the 
corporal  was  in  rapid  rush  for  the  scene.  He 
never  pulled  up  as  he  passed  the  major,  but 
hastened  on  down  the  bluff.  Thornton  paused  at 
the  brink. 

"  Where  are  you.  Five  ?  What's  the  matter  ?" 
he  heard  the  corporal's  eager  hail  in  the  darkness. 
No  answer. 

"  Where  are  you,  Euckel  ?    Wh "    Then  a 

stumble,  a  stifled  exclamation,  the  sound  of  some- 
thing like  a  carbine  falling  on  the  sandy  ground, 
and  then  along  the  bluff — trot — trot — trot — trot 
— double  time — the  rapid  coming  of  the  sergeant 
with  the  patrol  and  a  lantern. 

"  This  way,  sergeant !"  cried  the  major,  as  he 
led  on  down  the  slope. 

"  Come  here  with  that  light,  for  God's  sake  !'* 


SIGNAL   BUTTE. 


229 


rang  the  voice  of  the  corporal.  And  fifty  yards 
farther  they  found  him  bending  over  an  inanimate 
and  bleeding  form, — that  of  Ruckel,  the  young 
Bavarian  trooper,  pierced  through  and  through 
with  Tonto  arrows. 


CHAPTEK  IV. 


Alive,  alert,  and  well  at  two  o'clock,  the  young 
sentry  on  Number  Five  had  passed  the  call.  En- 
titled to  his  relief  immediately  after  2.30,  and 
allowed  a  few  hours'  rest  and  sleep  at  the  guard- 
house, he  had  but  half  an  hour  now  to  tramp  up 
and  down,  up  and  down,  along  that  dark  and 
dreary  post,  with  the  black  silhouette  of  the 
officers'  quarters  rising  between  him  and  the 
southern  sky,  with  the  black  shadows  of  the 
northward  foot-hills  hemming  the  view  of  the 
Prescott  road.  Soft  and  sandy  was  the  soil  in 
this  depression,  with  stunted  shrubbery  and  hardy 
brushwood  dotting  it  here  and  there.  West  of 
the  road  by  which  "  G"  Troop  had  trotted  away 
the  ground  lay  open  and  clear.  East  of  it  and 
over  towards  the  upper  end  of  Six's  post  there 
remained  many  clumps  of  wild  vegetation,  and  if 
any   doubt   existed   at  two   o'clock   of  the  near 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  231 

presence  of  Apaches  in  force  they  were  banished 
at  2.30,  for  "  C"  Troop,  tumbling  out  in  hot  haste 
and  formed  in  fighting  line,  went  down  the  slope 
in  single  rank,  out  over  the  post  of  poor  Kuckel 
lying  there  skewered  with  Tonto  shafts,  and  in 
dispersed  order,  with  carbines  at  ready,  they  beat 
through  that  chaparral,  stirring  up  the  jack- 
rabbits  by  the  score,  and,  later  on,  finding  here 
and  there  and  in  a  dozen  spots  the  track  of  Tonto 
moccasins,  unmistakable  as  the  hoof-prints  of  a 
moose,  but  finding  not  a  single  Tonto.  Fleetest 
of  mountain  warriors,  they  had  made  their  recon- 
noissance  and  then,  while  some  drew  Foster's 
troop  towards  the  Raton  Springs,  others  slipping  in 
behind  had  crept  noiselessly  within  ten  yards  of 
the  drowsy  sentry,  lolling  in  fancied  security 
along  his  shadowy  path,  passing  and  repassing 
between  their  lair  and  the  starlit  southern  sky, 
until,  crawling  upon  him  sinuous  and  slow  and 
patient  as  the  boa  constrictor,  they  had  struck  at 
one  and  the  same  instant,  and  dropped  him  in  his 
tracks  with  no  more  than  one  gurgling,  inarticu- 
late cry,  then  sped  away  for  the  foot-hills. 

While  Raymond's  men  were  beating  the  bush 
their  comrades  of  "  F"  Troop  had  saddled  and  led 
into  line  at  the  stables.  It  was  3.15  when  the 
dismounted  company  came  swinging  back  up  the 
slope,  silent,  vengeful,  yet  thrilling  a  bit  with  the 
sense  of  unseen  danger.     Thornton  by  this  time 


232  SIGNAL   BUTTE. 

was  fully  aroused  to  the  possibilities  of  Apache 
warfare. 

"  It  will  be  daybreak  soon,"  he  said,  "and  I  want 
you.  Turner,  to  push  out  on  the  trail  of  those 
beggars  and  run  them  to  earth  if  a  possible  thing. 
Raymond  will  remain  with  me.  They  must  belong 
to  some  bigger  band  hereabouts.  God  grant  it 
isn't  along  the  Sandy, — now !" 

Involuntarily  as  he  spoke  he  turned  and  looked 
to  the  west.  There  slept  old  Signal  Butte,  dark 
and  silent  still.  No  sign  of  beacon-fire  there. 
There  lay  the  dim  and  distant  ruins  of  the  old 
post,  down  in  the  depths  of  the  shadowy  valley. 
No  sign  of  danger  or  excitement.  Yet  if  Apaches 
dare  stalk  the  sentries  of  a  big  command  as  these 
had  done,  what  would  they  not  dare  with  so 
small  a  detachment  as  Crane's  ?  And  then  those 
unprotected  women  and  children  at  Kelly's  ranch. 
Thornton  had  seen  exciting  times  during  the  war 
of  the  rebellion,  but  women  and  children  never 
entered  into  those  calculations.  It  was  after  three 
when  Raymond's  men  returned  from  their  fruitless 
quest.  Turner's  troop  had  gone  out  to  the  stables 
and  not  a  word  had  come  from  Foster, — not  a  sign 
from  the  Sandy  valley  to  tell  that  Leon  had  safely 
reached  the  post.  Nervously  the  major  paced  up 
and  down  his  broad  veranda  now,  every  little 
while  pausing  to  address  some  query  or  instruction 
to   officers   or  men   hastening  by.     Lights  were 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  233 

flitting  about  in  every  set  of  quarters  and  on  every 
side.  Everybody  was  astir,  even  the  children. 
Over  at  the  east  the  stars  were  beginning  to  pale 
in  the  faint,  pallid  light  of  the  coming  morn,  and 
little  by  little  the  jagged  outline  of  the  MogoUon 
range  grew  sharp  and  clear  against  the  reddening 
sky.  Over  at  the  west  the  peaks  began  to  warm 
and  glow  in  answer,  while  at  their  base  the  valley 
of  the  Sandy  still  lay  dark  and  unrevealed.  Nearly 
four  o'clock, — no  further  word  from  Foster.  Could 
he  have  sent  couriers  from  the  Springs  who, 
riding  carelessly,  confidently  homeward,  had  met 
poor  Kuckel's  fate.  Certainly  by  three  o'clock  he 
should  have  been  heard  from,  and  here  it  was 
almost  daylight.  In  ten  minutes,  just  as  soon  as 
coffee  could  be  served.  Turner  with  his  troop  would 
push  away  on  his  scout,  and  then  all  on  a  sudden 
a  new  anxiety  flashed  upon  the  major.  Nearly 
four  o'clock  and  Leon's  signal  had  not  been  fired ! 
Great  heaven  !  were  the  Apaches  on  the  westward 
road,  then,  after  all  ?  Was  that  brave  little  life 
another  sacrifice  ?  Taking  Raymond  and  his  ad- 
jutant with  him,  the  major  once  more  tramped  out 
to  the  westward.  There  over  the  tumbling  sea  of 
rock  and  gorge  and  beetling  cliff  the  gleaming  tip 
of  old  San  Pedro  peered  at  them,  his  rugged 
flanks  robed  in  royal  purple,  but  even  Signal  Butte 
in  the  lower  valley  lay  shrouded  in  gloom.  In 
low  tone  the  sentry  on  Number  Four  challenged 

20* 


234  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

at  their  approach.  He  recognized  the  voices  of 
his  officers,  but  orders  compelled  him  to  demand 
further  token.  "  Friends  with  the  countersign," 
answered  the  adjutant,  half  impatiently,  as  though 
to  say,  "We  weren't  coming  on  or  across  your 
post,"  yet  refraining  from  the  words  because  he 
knew  the  sentry's  right. 

"  Halt,  friends.  Advance  one  with  the  counter- 
sign," ordered  the  soldier  in  the  same  low,  firm 
tone,  and,  obediently,  Thornton  and  Raymond 
waited  while  the  junior  officer  went  quickly  for- 
ward and  whispered  the  mystic  word  over  the 
lowered  bayonet  of  the  infantry  guard.  Permitted 
then  to  hold  conversation  with  his  visitor.  Private 
Graham  answered  the  first  anxious  question  of  the 
major.  "  No,  sir,  not  a  sign  of  a  fire  anywhere  in 
the  valley.  I've  been  watching  particular."  And 
just  at  that  moment  the  call  of  four  o'clock  began. 

Only  two  calls  had  gone  the  rounds  since  the 
discovery  of  Ruckel's  fate,  and  once  more  now, 
still  dim  and  indistinct,  the  post  of  Number  Five 
down  in  the  low  ground  to  the  north  was  uncovered 
at  the  front,  for  Raymond's  troop  had  returned. 
Instinctively  the  officers  turned  away  from  Number 
Four  and  walked  back  nearer  the  northward  slope 
as  the  soldier  watch-cry  came  on  from  lip  to  lip. 
They  could  just  faintly  distinguish  the  form  of 
the  sentry  well  to  the  westward  of  the  road, — well 
out  of  range,  small  blame  to  him,  of  those  stunted 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  235 

brusli-heaps  and  the  point  where  poor  Euckel  had 
been  done  to  death  less  than  two  hours  before. 
He  had  halted  a  moment  as  though  to  listen  to  the 
call  as  it  came  to  him,  and  Number  Four — the 
infantryman  they  had  just  left — ^began  to  take  it 
up  as  Number  Three's  voice  died  away.  Then,  all 
on  a  sudden.  Number  Five  brought  his  rifle  down 
to  the  charge  and  went  leaping  like  a  colt  along 
his  post  to  the  point  where  it  was  crossed  by  the 
Prescott  road,  and  instead  of  the  prolonged  and 
melodious  call  of  the  hour  when  it  came  his  turn 
it  was  the  sentry's  challenge,  sharp,  clear,  and 
imperative,  that  split  the  morning  air.  There 
was  something  nerve-tingling,  something  that 
smacked  of  swift  coming  alarm,  in  the  very  tone, 
and  its  only  answer  at  the  front  was  the  quick 
rising  thud  of  a  galloping  horse's  hoofs.  Again 
rang  the  challenge, — all  three  words  jumbling  this 
time  into  one, — "  Whocomesthere  ?"  then,  "  Halt," 
— "Halt  or  I'll  fire  !"  and  then  Raymond's  power- 
ful tones  rang  out  through  the  breathless  air, — 

"  Hold  your  fire,  sentry !  That  horse  has  no 
rider." 

But  the  only  answer  was  the  loud  bang  of  the 
Springfield,  and  the  leaden  bullet  went  whistling 
away  towards  the  pole-star.  That  sentry  had  heard 
enough  of  the  perils  of  the  post  of  Number  Five 
for  one  night  and  preferred  to  take  no  chances. 
"Sure,  I  didn't  hear  the  captain,"  he  explained 


236  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

a  few  minutes  later.  He  heard  only  tlie  rapid 
coming  of  horse's  lioofs,  and  despite  the  fact  that 
horses  were  things  the  mountain  Apaches  never 
thought  of  using  except  when  hungry,  Private 
Hanrahan  thought  all  the  Tonto  tribe  were  coming, 
and  let  drive  accordingly.  It  was  only  a  troop 
horse,  blown  and  bleeding, — only  another  evidence 
of  the  devilish  cunning  of  the  savage  foe,  for  the 
moment  Corporal  Dunn  could  reach  them  on  the 
run  he  cried,  with  a  sob  in  his  voice,  "  It's  Tralee, 
of  '  G'  Troop,  sir.  Jim  Rafferty's  horse."  And 
so  at  last  here  was  Foster's  courier  from  Raton 
Springs ;  but  where  were  the  despatches, — where, 
alas,  was  Jim  ?  Tralee's  heaving  flanks  and  dis- 
tended nostril  and  eyeballs  told  his  story  of  peril 
and  homeward  flight,  even  as  the  long  welt  in  his 
broad  haunch  and  the  gash  through  the  high 
pommel  of  the  McClellan  tree  were  eloquent  of 
its  cause.  Like  Ruckel,  the  sentry,  poor  Kafierty, 
homeward  speeding  with  his  cajDtain's  midnight 
despatch,  had  been  ambushed  at  the  roadside. 

Another  thrill  to  the  chorus  of  excitement  that 
had  throbbed  the  long  night  through, — and  yet, 
not  the  last !  There  were  still  left  a  few  minutes 
of  darkness  and  the  devil  of  mischief  seemed 
afloat  in  the  very  air.  "  Go  and  tell  Mrs.  Foster 
the  truth  the  best  way  you  can,"  said  the  major, 
miserably,  to  his  adjutant.  "  There  she  is  on  the 
veranda  now.     I'll  go  round  the  west  side  to  the 


SIGNAL   BUTTE.  237 

office.  You  can  join  me  there.  Yes,  Turner, 
mount  and  start  at  once  if  your  men  have  had 
their  coffee.  Now  sweep  that  road  clean  from  here 
to  the  Sandy,  and  don't  leave  an  Indian  to  tell  the 
story.  Look  for  Foster  or  his  men, — and  try  to 
find  Kafierty."  And  so  saying  he  turned  to  the 
west  and  pushed  slowly  up  the  slope,  a  heavy- 
hearted  man.  Almost  the  last  thing  he  heard  as 
he  reached  the  end  of  officers'  row  was  Nellie 
Foster's  weeping.  If  stout,  soldier-like  Irish  Jim 
could  be  so  swiftly,  surely  massacred  by  unseen 
foe,  what  could  have  been  Leon's  fate,- — little  black- 
eyed  Leon  riding  alone,  unarmed,  with  Mrs. 
Downey's  sorely  needed  medicine,  through  the  dark 
depths  of  this  Indian-haunted  night!  But  now 
the  mountain-tops  were  all  shimmering  with  the 
glow  of  coming  day,  and  even  into  the  valley 
depths  the  faint  light  seemed  to  peer,  and  still 
there  waked  no  sign  of  life  from  the  distant  out- 
post,— no  reassuring  flame  to  warm  his  heart  with 
tidings  of  the  boy's  safe  coming, — but  something 
new  and  weird  and  strange  was  bulging  Signal 
Butte  all  out  of  shape,  and  the  sentry  on  Number 
Four  stood  halted  in  fascination  and  amaze.  The 
purple  fringe  of  the  familiar  pine  crest  seemed  to 
be  soaring  slowly  upward,  drawn  out  into  a  floating 
curl,  rose  tinted  at  the  top  where  it  met  the  blush 
of  dawn,  deep  hued  below  where  it  left  the  black 
base, — then  all  on  a  sudden  it  burst  into  lurid 


238  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

glare,  red-yellow  banishing  tlie  rose,  and  flaming 
over  the  valley  for  many  a  mile.  No  welcome 
signal  that,  telling  of  the  wanderer's  safe  return, — 
no  message  of  hojDe  or  comfort,  but,  most  dreaded 
sign  of  all,  it  was  the  cry  for  help  from  the  Sandy 
valley, — the  appeal  of  terrified  women  and  chil- 
dren,— the  token  that  red  war  had  burst  about  the 
walls  of  the  old  frontier  fort  and  even  its  little 
garrison  was  now  in  peril. 

If  Major  Thornton  was  in  grave  distress  before, 
he  was  in  the  depths  of  dejection  now.  For  hours 
he  had  been  longing  for  day,  and  day  had  only 
brought  him  new  and  worse  disaster.  Here  he 
was  with  one  small  company  of  infantry  as  per- 
manent guard  and  three  troops  of  cavalry,  fresh 
from  the  saddle-work  of  the  plains  and  utterly 
untaught  in  mountain  fighting,  as  his  striking  and 
scouting  column.  Well  had  the  Apaches  chosen 
their  time,  and  dire  indeed  was  the  effect  of  their 
concerted  blows.  All  in  a  flash  the  major  realized 
that  his  little  force  was  scattered  or  scattering, — 
Foster  somewhere  uj)  in  the  Socorro  to  the  north- 
west, possibly  pushing  still  farther  away  from  the 
post  and  into  peril ;  Turner  already  marching 
out  in  support  of  him  and  in  pursuit  of  the  am- 
bushing Indians,  who  at  this  rate,  before  another 
sunset,  would  line  the  Prescott  road  with  graves, 
and  this  left  only  Raymond's  troop,  diminished  in 
strength  by  the  detachment  of  Lieutenant  Crane 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  239 

and  his  party,  to  go  to  the  rescue  now.  Thornton 
was  quick  to  think  and  act.  "  Mount  your  horse, 
you,"  he  cried  to  the  orderly  trumpeter  just  issuing 
from  the  adjutant's  office.  "  Ride  like  a  streak 
after  Captain  Turner.  He  can't  be  across  the 
lowlands  yet.     Tell  him  to  return  at  once." 

Foster's  strong  enough,  to  take  care  of  himself, 
reasoned  the  major.  Poor  Kafferty's  done  for,  and 
anybody  who's  fool  enough  to  be  riding  the  Pres- 
cott  road  this  morning  must  take  his  own  chances. 
My  first  duty  is  to  save  these  people  to  the  west. 
Already  the  sentry's  cry  had  summoned  the  cor- 
poral. The  guard  was  springing  to  ranks  at  the 
tidings  that  the  beacon  was  blazing  on  Signal 
Butte.  There  was  no  need  of  sounding  "To 
arms,"  since  the  whole  command  was  practically 
alert  and  belted  now, — no  need  to  sound  reveille, 
since  the  entire  post  was  up  and  astir.  The  sun- 
beams were  gilding  the  westward  peaks  and  the 
upper  billows  of  the  clouds  of  dust  in  which 
Turner's  troop  came  trotting  back,  and,  met  half- 
way by  instructions, — never  entering  the  post, — 
turned  "column  half  right"  midway  across  the 
sandy  swale  and  went  cantering  westward  into 
the  dim  valley,  spurring  swiftly  to  the  rescue, 
Thornton  and  his  adjutant  with  them,  leaving 
Kaymond  in  command  at  Petribution. 

And  as  the  sun  climbed  higher  and  blazed 
slanting  down  upon  the  mesa,  and  the  soaring  dust- 


240  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

cloud  faded  out  of  sight,  men  and  women,  too, 
gathered  on  that  westward  bluff  to  watch  for 
further  sign  of  weal  or  woe.  "  O  that  we  had 
kept  Leon  with  us !"  was  Mrs.  Foster's  plaint.  "  It 
breaks  my  heart  to  think  of  him."  Indeed,  Leon 
and  Leon's  fate  seemed  uppermost  in  the  hearts  of 
all.  Rare,  indeed,  were  the  occasions  and  strong 
their  numbers  when  Apaches  had  dared  to  face  a 
whole  troop  in  the  field,  and  Captain  Raymond 
strove  to  soothe  the  fears  of  those  who  trembled  at 
the  thought  of  peril  to  Foster  and  Turner  and 
their  men.  "Apaches  have  raided  the  ranches 
most  probably,"  was  his  theory.  "  Crane  cannot 
protect  them  and  the  old  post  too.  He  has  prob- 
ably been  penned  at  the  corral,  and  could  hardly 
look  out  for  even  Kelly's  homestead.  The  Apaches 
are  possibly  there  all  around  them,  but  Turner 
will  brush  them  off  like  so  many  flies.  Kelly's 
people  are  safe  in  the  cellars,  I  haven't  a  doubt, 
and  the  old  man  with  the  assistance  he  has  can 
easily  stand  off  the  prowlers  until  they  see  Turner 
coming,  then  they'll  all  skip  for  the  range, — per- 
haps run  slap  into  Foster, — and  between  the  two 
there  won't  be  much  left  of  the  Tontos." 

All  this  was  very  buoyant  and  reassuring,  but 
women  can  see  so  many  possibilities  of  peril  to 
loved  ones  at  such  a  time.  Somebody  was  sure  to 
be  killed  and  several  wounded,  no  matter  how 
the  Indians  were  driven.     It  always  happened  so. 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  241 

The  troops  might  win  the  fight  and  hold  the 
ground  and  drive  the  warriors  helter-skelter 
through  the  hills,  but  who  suffered  most  ?  who  got 
the  worst  of  the  fight  itself?  was  the  thing  which 
wives  and  children,  mothers  and  daughters,  most 
considered,  and  in  almost  every  case  it  must  be 
owned  that  the  preponderance  of  dead  and  wounded 
lay  with  the  troops.  "  Already  two  of  our  best 
are  gone,"  sobbed  an  Irish  laundress,  "  and  what 
have  we  to  show  for  it  ?" 

"  Two  killed  outright !"  cried  Mrs.  Foster,  "  and 
one  of  them  our  Rafferty, — and  now  where  is 
Leon?" 

Alas !  who  could  say  ?  Leaving  Raymond,  his 
weeping  women  and  angering  men,  let  us  spur  on 
after  Turner  and  the  sorrel  troop,  by  this  time 
nearly  half-way  to  the  Sandy.  Even  on  fleetest 
of  American  horses  we  cannot  hope  to  overtake 
them  until  they  are  almost  within  pistol  range  of 
the  willows  in  the  bottom,  and  when  we  do  the 
first  platoon  is  dispersed  in  wide  skirmish  line,  the 
men  riding  five  yards  apart.  The  other  is  in 
reserve,  ready  to  strike  wherever  the  foe  may  be 
developed.  Only  a  mile  away  lie  the  old  ruins 
across  the  Sandy.  Only  a  mile  and  a  half  up 
there  along  the  falda  *  to  the  north-west  are  the 

*  Falda  is  the  name  given  by  Si^anish-Mexicans  to  the 
curving  slope  with  which  the  mountains  or  foot-hills  usu- 
ally fall  away  into  the  level  of  the  valley. 
L        2  21 


242  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

brown  adobe  buildings  of  Kelly's  little  rancb. 
Hereaway  to  the  north,  nearly  opposite  the  gate- 
way of  Apache  Cafion  through  which  the  Sandy 
eomes  brawling,  towers  the  black  pyramid  of  Signal 
Butte, — a  thin  smoke  still  floating  skyward  from 
its  summit.  A  dozen  times,  say  the  men  of  the 
/eserve,  have  they  seen  Leon's  pony  tracks  on  the 
way,  but  not  once  since  passing  the  dry  arroyo 
two  miles  back.  Over  beyond  that  strange,  cone- 
shaped  butte, — so  strong  a  landmark  as  it  stands  like 
a  sentry  guarding  the  canon's  gate, — the  shallow 
rift  in  the  Socorro  tells  where  the  trail  comes  in 
from  Katon  Springs  over  on  the  north-east.  Riding 
at  speed  until  within  a  mile  of  the  timber.  Turner 
has  been  watching  with  eager  eye  for  any  sign  of 
life  or  action,  of  friend  or  foe,  from  across  the 
stream,  and  not  so  much  as  wave  of  flag  or  blanket 
or  even  bandanna  has  rewarded  his  wistful  scrutiny. 
Kelly's  home  is  apparently  deserted.  The  dis- 
mantled walls  of  the  old  post  are  now  hidden 
behind  the  sheltering  fringe  of  timber  close  to  the 
stream.  Downey's  ranch  below  is  out  of  sight 
behind  the  shoulder  of  bluff"  that  shrugs  to  the 
very  brink  of  the  Sandy.  "  Queer,"  said  Thornton. 
"  Not  a  sign,  yet  they  must  have  seen  us  coming  ! 
Look  out  for  every  clump  of  trees  or  bush  ahead 
there.  Turner.  Since  last  night's  experience  I 
sniff  an  Indian  in  every  twig."  Turner  only  nods 
grimly  in  rej^ly.     All  along  the  skirmish  line  the 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  243 

carbines  are  advanced,  the  men  peering  eagerly 
into  the  thickets  ahead  of  them.  The  road  itself 
winds  through  the  low  bottom  and  enters  the  stream 
at  a  gravelly  bend  opposite  the  walls  of  the  old 
quartermaster's  corral,  but  that  is  a  couple  of  hun- 
dred yards  farther  to  the  south  now.  Turner  is 
aiming  to  reach  the  open  ground  midway  between 
Kelly's  and  the  post,  and  thereby  be  enabled  most 
promptly  to  lend  aid  to  either.  If  the  Tontos  are 
in  strong  force  and  lurking  in  the  timber  to  give 
him  a  hot  welcome,  then  the  fight  will  be  hand  to 
hand,  and  that's  what  he  wants.  If,  on  the  con- 
trary, they  are  too  weak  to  match  him,  even  with 
the  advantage  of  position,  and  have  fallen  back  to 
the  rocky  fastnesses  of  the  range,  then  there  is 
little  hope  of  inflicting  punishment,  for  in  his  own 
haunts  the  Apache  can  only  be  thrashed  when 
thoroughly  surprised,  and  one  might  almost  as  well 
hope  to  catch  a  weasel  asleep.  One  hundred  yards, 
only,  to  the  timber  now,  and  not  a  sign  from  any- 
where. More  slowly,  cautiously  the  line  advances, 
expecting  any  instant  to  hear  the  crack  of  the 
Indian  rifle  among  the  trees.  The  suppressed  ex- 
citement of  the  men  communicates  itself  through 
their  muscles,  that  pardonably  quiver  a  bit,  to  the 
mettlesome  horses,  and  these  are  snifiing  the  hot 
air  and  suspiciously,  with  wide  eye  and  nostril  and 
erect,  twitching  ears,  studying  the  j)ossible  ambush 
ahead.    Then  comes  sudden  shout  from  the  reserve, 


244  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

"Look!  Look  at  Kelly's!"  And  half  a  dozen 
horses  cower  and  shy,  and  such  is  the  nervous 
strain  of  the  moment,  a  score  of  human  hearts 
bound  in  young  troopers'  breasts. 

Some  one — they  can't  discover  who — is  waving 
a  shawl  or  blanket  from  Kelly's  door-way.  Some 
one  else  can  be  dimly  seen  lunging  out  from  be- 
hind the  ranch  and  fiercely  gesticulating  and 
pointing  towards  the  range  to  the  north.  "  It's  the 
old  man  himself,"  cries  a  sergeant.  "  They're  all 
right !"  The  next  minute,  too,  waving  his  hat,  a 
trooper  comes  spurring  through  the  willows  at  the 
front  and  rides  briskly  out  towards  the  advancing 
line.     Men  breathe  freer  at  the  sight. 

"  What's  gone  wrong  ?  Where  are  the  rest,  cor- 
poral ?"  queries  Turner,  riding  eagerly  to  meet  the 
coming  trooper. 

"  'Patchies,  sir, — ran  off  Kelly's  mules  and  killed 
his  herder  and  tackled  the  ranch  at  dawn.  They 
skipped  away  up  the  cafion,  and  the  lieutenant's 
after  them  with  ten  men.  He  said  he  knew  the 
captain  would  be  coming  as  soon  as  the  signal  was 
seen.  They  fired  on  our  corral,  too,  sir,  but  didn't 
harm  anybody.  Six  of  us  were  left  to  look  after 
the  women  and  children.  It's  lucky  Downey's 
people  had  come,  or  they'd  all  been  killed." 

"  Are  the  women  all  safe  ?" 

"  All  safe,  sir,  but  pretty  badly  scared.  They 
must  have  had  a  close  call  at  Kelly's.     The  old 


SIGNAL  BUTTE,  245 

man  wouldn't  leave  it  last  night,  and  Mrs.  Kelly 
wouldn't  leave  him,  but " 

"  Then,  if  you're  all  safe  at  the  post,  we'll  go 
right  on  to  Kelly's,"  said  Turner,  impatiently. 
"  Assemble  on  the  right  skirmisher !"  he  shouted 
to  the  fighting  line.  *'  Sound  the  trot,  trumpeter !" 
And  away  he  went,  with  his  orderly  and  a  few  men 
at  his  heels,  to  the  point  where  the  right  of  the  line 
had  just  reached  the  timber. 

But  Thornton  lingered.  "  How's  Mrs.  Downey  ? 
Did  she  get  her  medicine?"  he  asked,  uneasily. 

"  Mrs.  Downey's  better  since  the  Indians  skipped 
her,  but  I  don't  know  of  her  getting  any  other 
medicine." 

"Didn't  Leon  get  back?" 

"  Not  here,  sir.  He  may  be  up  at  Kelly's.  We 
didn't  suppose  he'd  attempt  to  come  back  after  Fer- 
guson and  the  other  fellers  got  in  here  last  night, 
— chasing  old  Muncey.  They  must  have  run  foul 
of  this  very  band,  sir.  Muncey  rode  in  all  by  him- 
self, he  said,  to  warn  us  and  Kelly's  people,  and 
was  then  going " 

"  Never  mind  him.  I  hope  the  Apaches  have 
got  him.     You  are  sure  Leon  never  got  back  ?" 

"  Sure,  sir.     We  never  knew  he'd  left  you." 

And  then  Thornton  turned  and  rode  hard  to  the 
ranch.  There  stood  the  old  sergeant  mopping  his 
red  face  and  modestly  receiving  Turner's  congratu- 
lations on  the  plucky  fight  he  had  made  in  defence 

21* 


246  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

of  his  home ;  but  the  light  went  out  of  Kelly's  eyes 
when  the  major  burst  forth  with, — 

"  Sergeant,  is  Leon  with  you  ?  Did  he  reach 
you  in  time  ?" 

"Leon,  sir?  I  haven't  seen  or  heard  of  him 
since  yesterday.  I  thought  he  was  with  the  women 
and  children  down  yonder."  And  the  sergeant 
pointed  to  the  old  post,  his  face  paling  with  grief 
and  apprehension. 

"  I  wish  to  Heaven  he  were,"  said  Thornton, 
sadly.  "Mrs.  Downey  was  suffering  great  pain, 
and  the  boy  rode  all  the  way  to  us  for  the  doctor, 
and  insisted  on  going  back  with  the  medicine.  We 
never  dreamed — at  least  I  didn't — of  Apaches  here. 
God  grant  they  haven't  got  him." 

But  just  then  there  rode  up  from  the  direction 
of  the  canon  Sergeant  Charlton  with  sorrow  in  his 
sunburned  face.  "  I'm  afraid  they  have,  major," 
said  he,  dismounting.  "  See,  here's  the  medicine- 
phial, — all  we  can  find  of  him, — and  his  pony  lies 
dead  at  the  foot  of  Signal  Butte." 


CHAPTER    V. 


It  will  be  remembered  that  Muncey  with  a  fleet 
horse  had  probably  an  hour's  start  of  his  pursuers, 
— possibly  more, — that  he  had  dropped  in  at  the 
old  post  long  enough  to  give  them  warning,  and 
then  had  ridden  away  for  Kelly's.  "  Just  as  quick 
as  I've  warned  the  old  man  I'll  come  back  to  you," 
he  called  to  Lieutenant  Crane,  who  had  thanked 
him  somewhat  inadequately  for  the  service  ren- 
dered. Crane  shared  the  universal  suspicion,  per- 
haps, and  disbelieved  Muncey's  report  on  general 
principles.  Muncey  was  spurring  off  when  Crane 
hailed  him,  "  You  must  have  met  Leon  a  mile  or 
so  out, — didn't  you  turn  him  back  ?"  And  Muncey 
whirled  around  in  saddle,  evidently  astonished,  and 
for  a  moment  confused. 

"Leon?     Never  saw  nothin'  of  him — or  any- 

247 


248  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

body,"  he  muttered.  "  Never  knew  lie  was  back 
bere, — at  least — er — er — I  didn't  know  it  until  I 
beard  a  rumor  of  it  to-nigbt."  Evidently  it 
wouldn't  do  for  Mr.  Muncey  to  tell  tbe  lie  that  be 
originally  intended  tbere,  as  it  would  soon  be  known 
bow  they  bad  been  talking  but  a  few  bours  before 
of  Leon's  return.  "  How'd  you  come  to  let  bim 
go?"  be  queried,  turning  about  again  and  appar- 
ently forgetting  bis  urgent  mission  to  Kelly's. 

"  Well,  be  never  stopped  to  ask  me,"  said  Mr. 
Crane,  wbicb  was  very  true.  "  But  I  can't  under- 
stand bow  you  missed  eacb  otber  if  you  kept  tbe 
road.  However,  go  ahead  and  warn  Kelly,  and 
then  come  back  here  and  we'll  talk  about  Leon." 

And  Muncey  had  gone  on  to  Kelly's,  but  that 
was  the  last  seen  of  bim,  despite  the  fact  that  he 
gave  Kelly  to  understand  that  he  must  hurry  over 
to  Crane  again  at  once.  Ferguson  and  his  friends 
came  galloping  in  to  old  Retribution  and  stirring 
up  tbe  guard,  and  they  could  tell  of  Leon's  safe 
arrival  within  easy  range  of  the  new  post,  and  of 
their  warning  him  to  stay  there ;  but  they,  too,  had 
pushed  on  over  to  Kelly's,  and  thence,  scoffing  at 
Kelly's  story  of  Muncey's  return  to  the  outpost, 
had  told  bim  the  man  was  a  liar, — which  Kelly  al- 
ready knew, — and  a  horse-thief, — which  he  more 
than  suspected.  They  had  ridden  straight  back 
past  the  lower  gate  of  the  canon  and  made  for  the 
trail  to  Raton  Springs.     Whether  they  had  met  or 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  249 

had  escaped  the  Indians  no  one  could  tell.  The  fate 
of  Muncey  and  his  pursuers  became  for  the  time 
being  a  secondary  consideration.  Thornton's  first 
effort  was  to  ascertain  what  had  become  of  Leon. 

With  any  luck  at  all  the  boy  should  have  got 
back  to  the  old  post  by  3  or  3.15  in  the  morn- 
ing. Crane  and  his  little  guard,  Mrs.  Downey 
and  her  sympathizing  friends,  however,  had  rea- 
soned that  he  would  not  be  allowed  to  attempt  to 
return,  and  so  had  ceased  to  look  for  him.  Crane 
conveyed  to  the  woman  the  tidings  brought  by 
Ferguson,  for  up  to  that  moment  he  had  disbelieved 
Muncey's  wild  tale.  Then,  doubling  his  sentries, 
but  telling  the  rest  of  his  party  to  lie  down  and 
rest,  he  coolly  sprawled  himself  on  his  blankets  and 
went  to  sleep.  The  next  thing  he  knew  it  was 
nearly  dawn,  and  the  sentries  had  roused  the  guard. 
Springing  to  his  feet,  Crane  demanded  the  cause 
of  the  alarm,  and  was  told  there  was  firing  up  by 
Kelly's  ranch.  It  was  still  dark,  though  the  eastern 
sky  was  beginning  to  flush,  as  the  little  detachment 
quickly,  noiselessly  assembled  in  the  starlight  in 
front  of  the  old  guard-house.  Two  veteran  war 
soldiers,  Tracey  and  Collins,  were  on  post  at  the 
time,  and  both  declared  that  there  had  been  a  rapid 
fusillade, — at  least  a  dozen  shots.  It  could  have 
come  from  nowhere  but  Kelly's,  said  they,  though 
from  their  stations  they  could  not  see  the  farm 
buildings.     Corporal  Foot,  on  duty,  was  inside  the 


250  SIGNAL  BUTTE, 

corral  wall  wlien  the  distant  firing  began,  and  ran 
for  the  gate-way  at  once,  but  it  had  ceased  by  the 
time  he  got  to  a  point  whence  Kelly's  ranch  was 
visible. 

Then  for  a  moment  the  lieutenant  was  in  a  quan- 
dary. His  orders  required  him  to  send  to  and  fire 
the  beacon  at  the  butte  if  the  Apaches  appeared  in 
the  valley, — but  this  might  not  have  been  Apaches 
at  all.  It  might  well  have  been  a  skirmish  be- 
tween the  horse-thief  and  his  pursuers,  who  had 
tracked  him  to  some  refuge  near  Kelly's.  That 
was  a  matter  in  which  military  interference  could 
hardly  have  been  tolerated.  Sutlers  and  frontiers- 
men, though  eager  enough  to  have  the  army  look 
after  the  Indians,  much  prefer  to  dispose  of  their 
own  rej)robates  in  their  own  way.  If  an  attack 
had  been  made  by  Apaches  it  was  speedily  over,  for 
not  another  sound  was  heard.  Within  the  corral 
the  women  and  children,  however,  had  been  aroused 
by  the  suppressed  excitement,  and  Kelly's  daugh- 
ters were  now  clamoring  to  be  allowed  to  go  to  see 
if  all  was  well  with  father  and  mother,  and  Crane 
ordered  a  corporal  and  two  men  to  mount,  ride 
thither,  and  ascertain  what  had  happened.  In  ten 
minutes  they  rode  away,  and  in  ten  more  were  back 
again,  driven  in  by  a  sharp  and  sudden  volley  from 
the  thickets  along  the  Sandy  not  five  hundred  yard? 
up-stream.  The  prowlers  had  so  secreted  them- 
selves as  to  enable  them  to  command  the  road  lead- 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  251 

ing  to  Kelly's  and  tlie  canon,  reasoning,  no  doubt, 
that  some  of  the  troop  would  be  sent  up  to  recon- 
noitre. Crane  had  never  fought  Apaches  before, 
but  this  served  to  convince  him.  He  reasoned  that 
the  bottom  was  full  of  Tontos,  that  they  surrounded 
him  on  every  side,  and  that  the  only  thing  for  him 
to  do  was  to  dispose  of  his  little  force  so  as  best  to  de- 
fend the  terrified  women  and  children  and  hold  out 
against  overpowering  numbers  until  relief  reached 
him  from  the  fort.  He  now  thought  it  high  time 
to  fire  the  beacon,  but  who  was  to  do  it?  With 
Apaches  watching  every  pathway,  how  could  any 
one  hope  to  reach  that  outlying  butte?  Every 
minute  it  was  growing  lighter,  however,  and  as  soon 
as  broad  day  came  he  determined  to  make  the  at- 
tempt ;  and  then  Downey,  also  an  ex-dragoon  and 
a  stalwart  settler,  took  a  hand  in  questioning  the 
corporal  who,  with  his  fellows,  had  been  driven  in 
unhurt,  yet  a  trifle  demoralized.  Neither  horse 
nor  man  had  a  scratch,  yet  everybody  had  heard 
the  fusillade, — six  or  eight  rapid  shots  almost 
bunched.  "  I  never  knew  Apaches  to  fire  so  many 
shots  before,"  said  he,  "and  miss.  You're  sure 
they  weren't  more'n  ten  yards  away  ?" 

"Certain  sure!"  said  the  corporal.  "Certain 
sure !"  said  his  followers,  two  good-looking  young 
troopers. 

Then,  after  a  moment's  pondering,  Downey  said 
he  believed  he  could  get  to  the  butte  in  safety,  and 


252  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

he'd  go  and  fire  tlie  pile,  whereat  the  women  began 
to  wail  again  and  the  lieutenant  to  protest,  and  right 
in  the  midst  of  the  discussion  somebody  shouted, 
"  Hurrah  !"  and  a  column  of  smoke,  speedily  burst- 
ing into  flame,  shot  upward  towards  the  zenith  from 
the  summit  of  the  old  butte,  and  everybody  thought 
how  plucky  a  thing  it  was  in  Kelly  to  creep  out 
there  and  climb  that  jagged,  bowlder-strewn  cone 
in  the  dim  morning  light,  set  fire  to  the  ever-ready 
stack  of  light-wood,  and  steal  back  to  his  lair. 
They  were  talking  of  it  when  broad  daylight  and 
Kelly  came  in  together. 

"  The  blackguards  ran  off  my  mules,"  he  said, 
with  a  fierce  oath,  "and  killed  poor  Bustamente. 
There  can't  be  more'n  six  all  told.  Can't  the  lieu- 
tenant spare  me  a  few  men  to  go  after  them  ? 
They've  all  skipped  off  for  the  Socorro."  But 
Crane  said  he'd  go  himself  with  a  dozen  men,  if 
need  be,  for  he  had  been  chafing  at  the  idea  of 
having  done  nothing  at  all,  and  was  eager  to  re- 
trieve himself  ere  relief  could  reach  them  and  the 
chance  be  gone. 

"  The  bottom  must  be  clear  if  you  came  across 
from  the  butte,"  he  said,  "  and  very  likely  they'll 
run  for  all  they  are  worth." 

"  Yes,  the  bottom's  clear  enough,  sir,  though  I 
haven't  been  near  the  butte " 

"  You  haven't  ?     Then  who  fired  the  beacon  ?" 

"I'm   sure  I  don't  know,  sir.     I  thought,  of 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  253 

course,  some  of  this  party  liad  been  sent  over  to 
do  so." 

And  then  the  men  began  looking  into  each 
other's  faces,  bewildered.  If  not  by  some  one  at 
Kelly's  or  here  at  the  post,  who  could  have  scaled 
the  butte  and  started  the  signal-fire  ?  Already  a 
lookout,  peering  eastward  through  the  lieutenant's 
binocular,  reported  a  dust-cloud  far  up  the  rise 
towards  the  new  post, — the  coming  of  the  rein- 
forcements,— and  if  Crane  meant  to  do  anything  at 
all,  now  was  his  time. 

"  I'll  leave  you  to  find  out  who  did  it,  sergeant," 
he  said.  "  We'll  go  on  after  the  mules.  Perhaps 
the  Apaches  did  it  themselves  as  a  joke." 

"Apaches  don't  joke,"  growled  the  old  man, 
with  gloomy  face,  as  the  detachment  trotted  away. 
"  There's  been  no  joke  from  one  end  of  this  night 
to  the  other, — but  there's  been  some  stupid  blun- 
dering on  somebody's  part,  or  I'm  a  recruit."  And 
then,  turning  to  one  of  his  daughters,  who  stood 
silently  by,  he  said,  briefly,  "  Fetch  me  the  pony, 
Kate  ;  I'll  ride  back  to  your  mother." 

"  Sure,  didn't  ye  know  yet,  father  ?  'Twas  Leon 
took  ut  to  ride  to  the  fort  for  medicine  for  Mrs. 
Dow^ney." 

And  thus  for  the  first  time  was  the  veteran 
trooper  made  aware  that  his  little  friend  and  found- 
ling had  dared  that  midnight  ride.  Fiercely  he 
broke  forth, — 

22 


254  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

"  And  was  tliere  no  man  among  ye," — lie  turned 
to  the  silent  group  of  soldiers  left  behind, — "no 
man  among  ye  fit  to  do  a  man's  work,  that  ye  should 
let  a  boy  baby  ride  into  the  teeth  of  them  Indian 
devils  ?  Where  were  you,  Phil  Downey,  that  you 
should  send  a  kid  like  that  for  yer  wife's  popj^y- 
sauce  ?" 

"  Where  was  I  but  tending  to  my  own  business, 
as  you  were.  Sergeant  Kelly,"  answered  the  other 
veteran,  stoutly,  for  between  the  two  ex-dragoons 
and  rival  ranchmen  little  love  was  wasted.  "  Of 
course,  if  I'd  been  here,  'tisn't  Leon  or  anybody 
else  would  have  gone  for  medicine,  but  me,  as  you 
ought  to  have  sense  enough  to  know,  if  you  weren't 
so  keen  to  be  saddling  blame  on  other  fellows' 
shoulders  and  so  devarting  it  from  your  own.  Me 
and  Mike  spent  the  night  at  our  ranch,  as  you  did 
at  yours,  and  niver  came  up  till  we  heard  the 
firing."  And  Downey's  eyes  flashed  angrily  on  his 
more  prosjDcrous  neighbor.  "  I  haven't  a  gov'ment 
post  or  a  gov'ment  arsenal  to  dhraw  on  to  defind 
me  property,  and  I  have  to  do  it  meself,"  he  added, 
in  withering  sarcasm  ;  and  if  anything  would  stir 
old  Kelly's  wrath  to  the  nethermost  depths  it  was 
the  faintest  hint  that  he  ever  used  so  much  as  a 
single  cartridge  of  all  the  ordnance  stores  confided 
to  his  care. 

"  'Tis  no  time  for  settling  our  scores,  Phil 
Downey,  or  you  and  I  would  expind  a  few  45's  as 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  255 

soldiers  and  gintlemen  did  in  the  days  wlien  more 
gintlemen  and  fewer  frauds  were  soldierin'.  Go 
to  yer  wife,  you,  that's  always  dyin'  if  she  has  an 
earache,  and  I'll  to  mine,  that's  never  known  what 
it  was  to  whimper,  and  she  and  I  will  see  what  we 
can  do  to  find  the  brave  little  lad  that's  gone  to  die 
for  you  and  yours, — for,  by  me  sowl,  the  hand  that 
lit  yon  blazin'  signal  was  his, — as  sure  as  this," 
and  he  clinched  a  hairy  fist  under  Downey's  nose, 
"  is  at  your  service  in  any  way  ye'll  have  it,  Mr. 
Phil  Downey, — an'  it  won't  be  the  first  batin'  it 
gave  ye." 

With  that  he  turned  his  back  on  a  shamefaced 
group  and  strode  fiercely  away  in  the  direction  of 
his  home.  Never  until  that  instant  had  it  seemed 
to  dawn  upon  them  that  by  any  human  possibility 
Leon  had  striven  to  return,  had  found  the  Indians 
interposed  between  him  and  the  old  post  in  the 
valley,  and  then,  realizing,  what  its  original  pro- 
jectors had  not  thought  possible,  that  the  Indians 
had  probably  so  closely  invested  the  post  itself  as 
to  prevent  any  one's  getting  out  to  fire  the  beacon, 
he  had  risked  his  own  brave  life  in  the  attempt, — 
had  given  the  signal  that  brought  rescue  to  them 
at  the  gallop,  and  in  so  doing  had  betrayed  his  own 
presence  to  the  lurking  foe.  Here  again,  therefore, 
was  a  case  where  the  ground  remained  in  the  hands 
of  one  party,  but  all  the  telling  blows  were  dealt 
by  the  other.     The  soldiers  had  felt  the  sting  of 


256  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

Kelly's  words.  True,  no  one  of  their  number  had 
been  ordered  to  make  that  i^erilous  ride,  though  all 
had  heard  Mrs.  Downey's  cries  and  moans  and  ap- 
peals for  aid,  and  some  one  might  have  volunteered 
and  been  allowed  to  go,  but  not  until  Leon  was 
well  on  his  way.  True,  had  Downey  been  there, 
he  would  not  have  permitted  the  sacrifice,  and  was 
now  ready  to  bitterly  upbraid  his  weaker  half  for 
inspiring  it.  A  good  woman  in  many  a  way  was 
Mrs.  Downey,  and  very  fond  of  the  boys, — Randall 
and  Leon, — but  the  least  pain  or  illness  prostrated 
her,  and  a  serious  pain  frightened  her  to  the  verge 
of  distraction.  All  this  Leon  was  too  young  to 
appreciate.  He  believed  her  suffering  terribly  and 
in  dire  need,  as  did  all  who  heard  her,  j^erhaps, 
but  Kelly's  girls  and  her  own  Mexican  maid-of- 
all-work,  and  so,  just  as  he  thought  Randy  would 
have  done  had  he  been  there,  he  determined  to 
go,  and  went  without  a  word  to  Crane,  who  might 
have  stopped  him, — as,  indeed,  Mrs.  Downey  was 
shrewd  enough  to  declare  he  would  if  he  happened 
to  hear  of  it. 

And  now  Crane  and  his  party  were  well  away 
into  the  Socorro  in  pursuit,  and  Kelly,  returning 
wrathful  to  his  home,  was  anticipated  in  his  search 
for  Leon  by  the  coming  of  Turner's  troop,  followed 
within  a  moment  or  two  by  Charlton's  dramatic 
announcement  of  the  discovery  of  the  slaughtered 
pony. 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  257 

Half  an  hour  later,  while  tlie  old  sergeant  was 
bending  over  and  examining  the  stiffening  carcass 
of  his  pet  broncho,  Turner's  best  trailers,  afoot, 
were  scouring  every  square  yard  of  those  jagged, 
bowlder-strewn  flanks  of  the  butte  in  search  of 
Leon's  trail  or  that  of  his  Indian  foes.  Others 
were  examining  the  signs  in  the  timber  and  along 
the  Sandy,  and  the  more  they  found  the  more  were 
they  mystified.  Apaches,  as  a  rule,  in  those  days 
were  foot  warriors.  The  Tontos,  Sierra  Blancas, 
Hualpais,  Apache  Mohaves,  and  Apache Yumas  had 
small  use  for  horse  or  mule,  yet  there  were  more 
hoof  than  moccasin  prints  in  the  timber  and  around 
Kelly's  corral.  What  was  more,  both  mules  and 
horses  were  shod.  That  meant  that  they  had  run 
off  a  good  deal  of  stock  and  were  riding  instead  of 
walking,  said  Turner's  men  ;  but  Kelly,  growing 
graver  and  less  disposed  to  talk  with  every  mo- 
ment, continued  searching  on  his  own  account, 
neglecting  many  a  chance  to  snub  some  callow 
young  trooper  hazarding  theories  as  to  the  numbers 
and  movements  of  the  Indians.  Major  Thornton, 
contenting  himself  with  sending  a  platoon  on  the 
trail  of  Crane's  party,  had  ridden  up  to  Kelly's 
ranch  to  pencil  some  instructions  for  Raymond. 
It  was  now  seven  o'clock,  and  neither  he  nor  his 
men  had  seen  a  single  Indian,  neither  had  he  news 
of  Foster,  nor  tidings  of  any  kind ;  yet,  with  the 
events  of  the  night  still  fresh  in  his  mind,  with  the 


258  SIGNAL  BtTTTE. 

death  of  Ruckel  and  Eafferty  and  Kelly's  Mexican 
assistant  and  the  loss  of  Leon  to  mourn,  the  major 
felt  convinced  the  Indians  had  swooped  in  force 
upon  the  valley,  and  would  have  killed,  burned, 
and  destroyed  everything  in  sight  but  for  his 
prompt  answer  to  the  signal  which  his  forethought 
had  caused  to  be  provided  at  the  top  of  the  butte. 
The  Apaches  had  desisted  from  their  attemjDt  only 
at  his  approach,  and  had  fled  into  the  hills,  whither 
his  men  were  now  pursuing.  Such,  at  least,  was 
his  theory.  This,  too,  was  to  be  the  tenor  of  his 
report  to  department  head-quarters,  to  be  sent  for- 
ward by  a  detachment  that  very  day.  Already  he 
was  framing  its  diction,  and,  after  a  few  pencilled 
words  to  Raymond,  bidding  him  hold  the  fort,  as 
he  wasn't  coming, — for  the  present,  at  least, — the 
major  had  borrowed  a  big  sheet  of  the  ordnance 
sergeant's  official  paper  and  began : 


"  Kelly's  Eanch, 
"  South  op  Apache  Canon, 
"  June  2,  187-. 
"  Assistant  Adjutant-General, 

Head-quarters  Department  of  Arizona  : 
"  Sir, — I  have  the  honor  to  report  that  on  receipt 
of  your  despatch  notifying  me  of  the  Apache  out- 
break and  directing  me  to  guard  well  my  working 
parties  at  old  Fort  Retribution  and  the  road  con- 
necting it  with  the  new  post,  I  detached  Lieutenant 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  259 

Crane  with  twenty  men  of  Captain  Raymond's 
troop  and  sent  him  to  camp,  temporarily,  at  the 
abandoned  corral,  and  also  took  steps  to  notify  the 
settlers  north  and  south  of  the  post  of  the  new 
danger.  Deeming  it  possible  that  the  Indians 
might  attempt  to  pass  around  us  and  raid  the 
ranches,  I  had  caused  a  beacon  to  be  built  on  the 
summit  of  Signal  Butte,  and  instructed  Lieutenant 
Crane  to  fire  it  if  he  learned  the  Apaches  were  in 
the  valley. 

"Last  evening  my  sentries  reported  firing  on  the 
Prescott  road  north  of  the  new  post,  and  Captain 
Foster  with  his  trooj)  was  sent  to  investigate.  He 
reported  by  courier  that  he  had  come  upon  two 
Mexicans  who  claimed  that  the  Apaches  had 
attacked  them  and  run  off  their  mules,  they  them- 
selves escaping  by  hiding  in  a  dark  ravine.  They 
also  reported  a  large  party  of  prospectors,  etc.,  at 
Katon  Springs,  and  represented  them  as  being  in 
peril  of  similar  attack,  so  Foster  pushed  on  at  once 
to  their  succor,  expecting  to  reach  them  at  mid- 
night. At  2.30  A.M.,  Trooper  Ruckel,  a  sentry  on 
post  in  the  low  ground  to  the  north  of  the  post, 
was  found  dead,  pierced  by  several  Apache  arrows, 
and  Captain  Raymond  with  his  men  made  a  search 
through  the  chaparral  as  far  as  the  foot-hills  with- 
out discovering  anything  of  the  enemy.  A  few 
minutes  later  a  horse  recognized  as  Private  Raf- 
ferty's,  of  '  C  Troop,  came  riderless  and  wounded 


260  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

into  the  post,  and  I  had  just  despatched  Captain 
Turner  with  his  troop  at  daybreak  to  scout  the 
country  along  the  Prescott  road,  when  the  flaming 
signal  at  the  butte  told  that  the  Indians  had  worked 
around  to  the  valley  to  the  west  of  us.  Leaving 
Captain  Raymond  with  the  infantry  and  his  half 
troop  to  guard  the  j^ost,  I  proceeded  with  Troop 
'  F' — Turner's — to  this  point,  reaching  here  after 
a  sharp  trot  in  less  than  an  hour  and  a  quarter, 
only  to  find  the  Indians  fled  with  some  stock  from 
Kelly's  ranch,  and  Lieutenant  Crane  already  in 
pursuit.  The  only  casualties  in  the  valley  thus 
far  reported  is  one  Mexican  herder  killed  at 
Kelly's,  and  I  regret  to  add  the  probable  loss  of 
a  gallant  little  fellow,  Leon  MacNutt,  whose  pony 
was  found  a  few  minutes  ago  at  the  foot  of  the 
butte  with  three  Apache  arrows  through  him.  It 
is  feared  that  the  boy  has  been  killed  or  run  off 
by  the  Indians,  who  are  reported  to  have  fled  into 
the  fastnesses  of  the  Socorro  to  the  north  of  us. 
If  so,  between  Captain  Foster's  troop  already  in 
the  field  and  those  here  at  hand  I  hope  to  make 
short  work  of  them."  And  here  Major  Thornton 
was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  the  ordnance 
sergeant.  It  must  be  remembered  now  that  old 
Kelly  had  served  in  Arizona  in  his  dragoon  days 
before  the  war,  and  had  just  completed  another 
period  of  five  long  years  with  the  Eleventh  Cavalry, 
the  predecessors  of  Thornton's  regiment.     Like 


SIGKAL  BUTTE.  261 

every  other  old  soldier,  he  was  inclined  to  the  belief 
that  new-comers  had  very  much  to  learn,  and,  as 
we  have  seen,  the  Indians  themselves  were  taking 
advantage  of  this  inexperience.  Kelly  couldn't 
be  disrespectful  to  an  officer,  but  he  had  much  to 
say  and  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost. 

"May  I  speak  to  the  major?"  was  his  abrupt 
request,  as  he  stood  erect  at  the  door-way,  his  hand 
raised  in  salute.  Thornton  wheeled  round  in  his 
chair  and  looked  up  in  quick  interest. 

"  Certainly,  sergeant.     Go  ahead." 

"As  I  understand  it,  sir,  Lieutenant  Crane's 
party  followed  the  trail  into  the  canon  and  would 
go  on  through  in  pursuit." 

"  That's  my  understanding  also,"  said  the  major. 

"  And  did  the  major  order  the  detachment  that 
followed  Lieutenant  Crane  to  go  on  till  they  came 
up  with  him  ?" 

"  Yes.  He  couldn't  go  very  far,  you  know ;  he 
took  no  rations." 

"  I  know,  sir ;  but  from  what  I  hear  the  lieu- 
tenant rode  straight  into  the  canon  and  expected 
to  find  the  raiders  there  somewhere.  Once  into  it, 
sir,  there's  no  way  out  but  through  it." 

"  Very  true." 

"Well,  what  I'm  afraid  of,  sir,  is  this, — the 
Indians  who  have  run  that  stock  into  the  caQon  so 
as  to  make  a  trail  to  draw  the  troops  in  pursuit 
are  only  two  or  three  in  number,  but  if  there's 


262  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

more  Indians  in  those  hills, — and  the  chances  are 
there  are," — and  Kelly  pointed  significantly  to  the 
rugged  heights  so  nearly  overshadowing  them, — 
"  the  most  of  them  will  be  found  lying  on  their 
bellies  up  the  cliifs  and  ready  to  heave  down  whole 
tons  of  rock  on  our  fellows  in  the  gorge." 

Thornton  started  to  his  feet  and  stared  eagerly 
out  of  the  north  window  in  front  of  him.  "  That's 
a  very  serious  matter,"  he  said ;  "  but  wouldn't  we 
have  heard  of  it  by  this  time?  The  cliffs  are 
nearly  all  down  at  this  end,  are  they  not  ?" 

"  Most  of  'em  are,  sir,  but  there's  a  bad  slit 
within  a  mile  of  the  north  gate,  nearly  twelve 
miles  from  here,  and  another  about  midway.  If 
they  jump  the  troops  at  this  end  they'd  know  the 
reserves  here  would  be  galloping  up  the  game 
trails  east  or  west  of  the  canon  in  no  time,  whereas 
if  they  wait  and  let  the  lieutenant  and  his  party 
grope  along  to  that  narrow  part  of  the  cafion  just 
below  where  old  Sanchez  and  his  people  were 
drowned  out,  why,  they've  got  'em,  sir,  got  'em 
where  they  can't  hit  back  or  help  themselves  in 
any  way." 

The  major  hastened  out  into  the  open  sunshine, 
now  beating  hot  and  dry  upon  the  adobe  walls. 
"  Bring  my  horse,  orderly,"  he  called,  as  he  stowed 
away  his  unfinished  report,  and  a  boy  trumpeter, 
with  his  slouched  hat  pulled  down  to  keep  the  sun 
glare  from  his  eyes,  turned  away  from  where  a 


SIGNAL  BTJTTE.  263 

little  knot  of  men  bad  just  buried  tbe  body  of  tbe 
luckless  Mexican  herder  and  darted  into  tbe  corral, 
presently  reappearing  witb  tbe  major's  reluctant 
charger  towing  at  the  end  of  a  taut  bridle-rein. 
"  Now  let  Sergeant  Kelly  have  your  horse,"  said 
Thornton,  "  and  give  my  compliments  to  Captain 
Turner  and  ask  him  to  join  us.  Come,  sergeant, 
show  me  the  trails." 

Old  Kelly  was  already  in  saddle  beside  the  com- 
mander and,  never  waiting  to  let  down  the  stirrups, 
but  with  his  long  legs  dangling,  led  the  way  along 
a  winding  path  to  the  stream,  and  then  through  the 
willows  to  its  wooded  bank.  A  trot  of  three 
minutes  brought  them  to  the  bluff  at  whose  rocky 
base  the  Sandy  came  boiling  out  of  the  canon. 
Ahead  of  them,  fresh  and  distinct,  the  hoof-prints 
of  a  score  of  horses  had  obliterated  all  sign  of 
what  might  have  been  driven  ahead  of  them; 
but,  wheeling  his  horse  abruptly  to  the  right, 
Kelly  plunged  into  the  foaming  waters  and  sent 
him  sputtering — breast-deep — to  the  lower  bank 
on  the  opposite  side.  Here  in  a  shallow  depression 
to  the  east  of  the  stream  lay  some  soft  and  marshy 
ground,  and  here  the  old  sergeant  reined  in  and 
pointed  without  a  word  to  some  peculiar  footprints. 
Thornton,  following  his  lead,  gazed  down  at  the 
sign,  then  into  the  sergeant's  face  for  explanation. 

"  When  did  you  find  these  ?"  he  asked. 

"Not  fifteen   minutes   ago,  sir.     The   animals 


264  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

went  into  the  canon  as  Mr.  Crane  supposed,  and 
lie  followed,  but  that's  the  print  of  the  Tonto 
moccasin,  and  some  of  those  bucks  have  cut  across 
below  here,  skirted  the  edge  of  this  here  cienega  * 
close  as  they  could  without  getting  into  it,  and  gone 
on  up  the  heights.  It's  my  belief  they've  planned 
to  trap  the  lieutenant,  and  we  can't  get  after  them 
along  this  trail  too  quick." 

Thornton  turned  and  gazed  eagerly  down  the 
Sandy.  Out  from  the  willows,  loping,  rode  the 
tall  and  soldierly  form  of  the  captain  of  the  sorrel 
troop,  hastening  to  join  his  chief,  but  before  he 
could  ford  the  stream,  far  to  the  northward  some- 
where among  those  resounding  rocks  came,  faint, 
distant,  but  unmistakable,  the  ring  and  rattle  of 
musketry. 

"  By  heaven  !  old  man,  you're  right,"  cried  the 
major.  "  Mount  your  men.  Turner,"  he  shouted, 
"  and  get  them  up  here, — lively  !" 

*  Cienega,  a  little  marsh. 


^:r^ 


CHAPTEK    VI. 

It  was  some  twenty-three  miles,  as  has  been  ex- 
plained, in  a  general  north-westerly  direction  by  a 
crooked  road  from  the  new  post  of  Fort  Retribution, 
around  the  base  of  the  Socorro,  past  Raton  Springs 
(eight  miles  out) ,  to  the  fords  of  the  Sandy,  which 
lay  some  five  miles  north  of  the  upper  entrance  to 
Apache  Cafion.  It  was  about  ten  miles,  nearly  due 
west,  from  the  flag-staff  at  the  new  post  to  Signal 
Butte.  Apache  Canon,  from  gate  to  gate,  was  a  rift 
of  nearly  eleven  miles,  and  the  course  of  the  Sandy 
was  about  south-east  by  south.  So  here  was  a  rude 
scalene  triangle  with  a  ten-mile  base,  a  sixteen-mile 
adjacent  side,  and  a  twenty-three-mile  hypothenuse, 
— "  crooked  as  a  corkscrew,"  as  the  troopers  said, — 
and  this  little  triangle,  solidly  filled  with  moun- 
tains, was  the  field  of  operations  of  Major  Thorn- 
ton's command  in  this,  its  first  campaign  against 
Arizona  Indians.  The  Sandy  took  a  sudden  turn 
to  the  south-west  as  it  passed  the  old  post  and 
flowed  away  in  that  general  direction  to  its  con- 

M  23  266 


266  SIGNAL   BUTTE. 

fluence  to  the  Gila,  and  the  old  roundabout  wagon 
route  from  Retribution  to  Prescott  went  down  the 
Sandy,  around  the  southern  end  of  the  mountain- 
range,  and  then  away  north-westward  up  the  valley 
of  Willow  Creek.  The  only  short  cut  through  the 
Socorro  clump  was  by  the  old  Tonto  trail  from 
Signal  Butte  at  the  south  to  Raton  Springs  to 
the  north-east ;  and  this,  said  Sergeant  Kelly,  was 
not  the  route  by  which  the  raiders  retired  on  the 
approach  of  Turner's  troop,  but  was  the  route  by 
which  they  descended  into  the  valley.  If  so,  they 
must  have  come  over  from  Raton  Springs,  and 
Foster's  men  should  not  be  far  behind  them, — only 
Foster  hadn't  a  soul  with  him  who  had  ever  been 
through  there  or  could  trail  by  night.  He  had  to 
wait  for  day,  and  possibly  was  waiting  for  orders. 
There  were  game-trails  all  through  the  rocky,  pine- 
covered  heights,  but  these  would  only  confuse  the 
uninitiated. 

If,  as  Kelly  declared,  the  Indians  had  dared  to 
drive  their  captured  stock  straight  through  the 
cafion,  to  lure  the  troops  after  them,  while  a  larger 
party  lurked  in  ambush  on  the  overhanging  cliffs, 
it  meant  that  they  had  scouts  watching  Foster  and 
ready  to  lead  him  astray,  while  others,  far  to  the 
north,  keeping  wary  eye  on  the  movements  of 
Colonel  Pelham's  troops  at  Sandy,  despatched 
swift  runners  or  communicated  by  smoke  or  flame 
signal?  that  only  Indian  eye  could  read. 


SIGNAL   BUTTE.  267 

"  Tliey  feel  secure  for  this  day,  sir,"  said  Kelly 
to  the  anxious  and  perplexed  field  officer,  whose 
command  was  now  so  widely  scattered,  "  or  they 
wouldn't  wait  to  jump  the  lieutenant." 

Had  they  "jumped  the  lieutenant?"  That  was 
the  absorbing  question.  The  firing  had  died  away 
almost  as  suddenly  as  it  began.  The  sounds  came 
from  the  general  direction  of  the  canon, — not  that 
of  the  trail  to  the  Springs.  It  could  not,  therefore, 
be  a  clash  between  Foster's  troop  and  the  Apaches. 
It  must  have  been  Crane's  men,  to  whose  support  a 
whole  platoon  had  been  despatched,  but,  if  what 
Kelly  said  was  true,  they  were  little  better  off  than 
so  many  rats  in  a  trap.  All  this  the  major  was 
rapidly  considering  while  Turner  rallied  his  men 
down-stream  and  came  trotting  up  to  the  cienega. 
Then,  led  by  Kelly,  afoot  and  in  single  file  the 
little  party  began  the  tortuous  ascent  to  the  heights. 
In  ten  minutes  they  were  again  in  saddle  and  trot- 
ting now  through  a  bold  and  beautiful  range. 
To  their  left  lay  the  deej)  chasm  of  Apache  Cafion, 
and  off  to  the  eastward  could  be  seen  the  dark  rift 
through  which  ran  the  trail  to  Eaton  Springs.  A 
guard  of  ten  men,  together  with  Downey  and  his 
fellow-ranchmen,  remained  about  the  post,  so  that 
at  this  moment,  say  eight  o'clock  of  a  hot  June 
morning.  Major  Thornton's  force  was  distributed 
at  five  or  six  different  points,  at  both  the  southern 
angles  and  along  the  outer  edge  of  this  rough 


268  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

triangle.  Verily,  the  Apaches,  indeed,  seemed  to 
know  how  to  "  play"  the  new-comers. 

"  If  poor  Rafferty  hadn't  been  headed  off  and 
killed,"  said  the  major  to  Captain  Turner,  who, 
now  that  there  was  greater  room,  rode  up  along- 
side, "  we  should  have  known  Foster's  discover- 
ies and  movements.  As  it  is,  we  are  completely 
in  the  dark.  I'm  not  so  anxious  about  Crane 
now,  for  he  has  evidently  got  through  tlie  lower 
part  of  the  canon  all  right,  and  hasn't  had  time 
to  reach  the  bad  stretch  at  the  northern  end,  but 
I  hope  he's  safe  out  of  the  bad  place  in  the 
middle." 

And  just  at  this  moment  the  old  sergeant,  riding 
a  dozen  yards  ahead  and  coming  to  a  sharp  turn 
around  a  rocky  point,  reined  suddenly  in  and  sig- 
nalled halt.  With  much  clatter  and  sputter  of 
hoofs  the  rear  of  the  column  seemed  to  double  up 
on  the  leaders  before  the  rapid  trot  could  be  checked, 
and  then,  with  heaving  flanks,  the  horses  huddled 
in  a  bunch.  There  was  an  ojiening  in  the  hills  to 
the  right,  and  a  game-trail  led  down  around  the 
very  point  where  Kelly  had  halted  and  was  now 
off  his  horse  studying  the  ground. 

"  I  thought  so,  sir,"  said  he,  pointing  eagerly  to 
certain  prints  in  the  rock-dust  along  the  trail. 
Then,  bending  low,  he  worked  over  towards  the 
edge  of  the  cliff.  "  See  here  again,  sir,  and  here, 
— Tonto  moccasins !   They  probably  crept  out  close 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  269 

to  the  edge — two  or  three  of  them — to  watch  what 
might  be  coming  up  through  the  gorge  below." 

Turner  was  listening  with  a  whimsical  smile  on 
his  face,  and  here  interposed.  "  Look  here  a  mo- 
ment, sergeant,"  said  he.  "I  have  been  doing 
some  little  scouting  down-stream,  and  there  are 
some  points  that  may  not  have  occurred  to  you.  I 
admit  we're  new  to  Apache  scouting,  but  there  are 
some  general  rules  that  all  Indians  recognize.  Now, 
we  learned  a  bit  from  our  Pawnee  scouts, — and  a 
Pawnee  would  say  that  these  fellows"  (and  here 
Turner  pointed  to  the  footprints  in  the  yielding 
turf)  "  were  peering  over  at  something  going  up  the 
cafion  ahead  of  them,  and  not  what  was  coming 
behind.  Let  me  ask  you.  What  has  become  of 
Muncey  and  Ferguson  and  all  their  crowd  all  this 
time  ?     Where  did  they  go  ?" 

"  God  knows,  sir ;  but  ever  since  the  cloud-burst 
Muncey's  too  big  a  coward  to  push  through  the 
canon  alone  at  night." 

"  Ordinarily,  yes, — I  admit  that, — but  this  time 
'twas  life  or  death  with  him.  For  some  reason  he 
stole  the  best  horse  at  the  fort — Ferguson's — and 
skipped  in  the  dark.  I  believe  he  was  in  hopes 
of  joining  Manuel  and  his  gang.  I  believe  he 
thought  he  could  safely  stop  and  get  credit  for 
giving  warning  to  Lieutenant  Crane  and  yourself, 
— then  he  pushed  out  over  towards  Raton  Springs. 
You  say  there  were  the  prints  of  a  dozen  horses 
23* 


270  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

and  mules  this  morning  coming  down  into  the 
valley?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,  they  would  obliterate  any  prints  of  those 
going  up.  Now,  wasn't  that  Manuel's  party?  Don't 
you  suppose  Muncey  met  them  in  the  hills, — had 
them  hide  until  Ferguson  and  his  friends  passed 
them  by  in  the  darkness,  and  then  came  on  down  by 
Signal  Butte,  intending  to  stay  with  Crane's  guard, 
or  else,  perhaps,  to  push  on  down  the  Sandy  to  the 
Gila  and  Tucson  after  they  got  what  they  wanted  ?" 

"Got  what  they  wanted?  Does  the  captain 
mean  Leon  ?" 

"Leon,  mules,  horses, — anything  else  to  help 
them  in  their  flight.  How  do  you  know  who 
killed  your  herder  and  ran  off  your  mules,  ser- 
geant ?     Could  you  see  ?" 

"  No,  sir ;  it  was  lighting  up  a  little  at  the  east 
and  I'd  fallen  into  a  sort  of  doze,  and  the  boy,  I 
suppose,  thought  everything  was  all  safe  and  he 
went  out  to  let  the  mules  out  of  the  stufiy  box  in 
which  we'd  penned  them  for  the  night.  The  next 
thing  Mrs.  Kelly  and  I  heard  was  the  firing.  It 
was  down  the  hill-side  towards  the  water,  and  I 
could  only  shoot  at  the  flashes." 

"Exactly!  Wliat  I  believe  is  that  those  two 
bands  of  thieves — Apache  and  Mexican — ran 
foul  of  each  other  in  the  dark.  Muncey  and  his 
party,  scared  to  death,  perhaps,  have  fled  north- 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  271 

ward  into  the  cafion,  and  the  reason  you  had  no 
more  trouble  is  that  the  Apaches  put  out  after  him. 
We  have  got  the  whole  field  ahead  of  us  at  this 
minute.     I  only  wish  we  knew  who  has  Leon." 

"Mount,  then,  and  come  on,"  said  the  major, 
eagerly.  "  Turner,  you're  probably  right."  And 
then,  as  if  in  confirmation  of  the  theory,  far  to  the 
front  again  the  crack  of  cavalry  carbines  echoed 
along  the  mountain  gorge. 

And  here,  four  miles  out  from  the  lower  gate, 
the  walls  of  the  canon  seemed  to  fall  away.  Still 
jagged  and  steep  where  the  Sandy  lashed  at  its 
banks,  the  rocky  face  of  the  clifi*s  was  but  a  dozen 
feet  or  so  in  height,  and  thence  the  pine-covered 
slopes  rose  and  rolled  in  bold  upheavals,  with 
sheltered  valleys  between  each  mountain-wave. 
Along  through  the  pines  led  the  Tonto  trail. 
Along  in  single  file,  now  at  rapid  trot,  now  at 
easy  lope,  but  often  climbing  and  sliding  clumsily, 
the  sorrels  followed.  Far  down  in  the  gorge  the 
old  canon  trail  could  be  seen.  "  It's  just  around 
that  point,  sir,"  said  Kelly,  presently,  his  eyes 
snapping  with  excitement,  "ould  Sancho  and 
Leon's  father  were  drowned  out.  We  knew  it 
because  when  the  flood  went  down  you  could  find 
mules  and  men,  saddles  and  apparejoes,*  rifies  and 

*  Apparejo — pronounced  apparayho — is  the  Mexican 
pack-saddle,  now  adopted  for  use  of  the  pack-trains  of  the 
United  States  army. 


272  SIGNAL   BUTTE. 

blankets  lodged  among  the  rocks  and  trees  for 
miles  below,  but  nothing  above.  They  was  swept 
out  just  like  so  many  rats  in  a  mill-race." 

"  There's  a  mule  down  there  now,"  cried  a  keen- 
sighted  trooper,  riding  close  behind  the  captain. 

"  He's  killed  this  morning,  then, — and  yon's  a 
horse.  See  ?"  cried  Kelly,  pointing  eagerly  down 
into  the  dej^ths.  "  The  first  tackle  must  have  been 
right  along  here  somewhere." 

Once  more  ahead  of  them  the  cliffs  began  to 
narrow.  Once  more  the  trail  clambered  to  a  pro- 
jecting point,  and  then  skirted  a  rocky  j^alisade 
commanding  a  view  of  the  cafion  for  two  miles, — 
the  Sandy  leaping  in  foaming  rapids  five  hundred 
feet  below.  One  after  another  the  troopers  reached 
the  point  and  then,  following  the  leader,  spurred 
into  a  lope,  for  Turner  and  Kelly — foremost  now 
— had  caught  again  the  sound  of  firing,  and  pres- 
ently out  from  the  sockets  whijDped  the  carbines, — 
the  fight  was  in  view  ahead. 

But  what  a  fight !  Down  in  the  depths  of  the 
gorge — sheltering  themselves  as  best  they  could 
from  occasional  bullet  and  frequent  bowlder  hurled 
from  up  the  heights — some  forty  blue-uniformed 
troopers  were  falling  slowly  back  before  the  cease- 
less onslaught  of  a  foe  they  could  neither  see  nor 
reach.  Just  as  Kelly  had  feared,  Lieutenant  Crane 
had  been  lured  into  a  trap,  and  the  supporting 
platoon  reaching  him  could  only  share  his  predica- 


The  trail  clambered  to  a  project! nt 
the  canon  for  two  miles. 


it,  com  111  an 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  273 

ment.  Just  how  far  up  the  cafion  he  had  suc- 
ceeded in  following  the  trail  was  now  a  matter 
of  little  consequence.  Crane  and  his  men  were 
making  the  best  of  their  way  out,  bringing  their 
wounded  with  them.  It  was  the  first  lesson, — a 
bitter  one,  and  one  that  would  have  been  far  more 
tragic  but  for  the  coming  of  their  better  led  com- 
rades along  the  upper  trail.  Long  before  Turner 
and  Kelly  could  sight  a  single  Apache  the  Apaches 
had  caught  sight  of  them,  and  then,  darting  from 
rock  to  rock,  slinking  from  tree  to  tree,  away  sped 
the  lithe,  sinewy  fellows  out  of  rifle  range.  Only  a 
few  long-distance,  scattering  shots  were  exchanged 
between  Turner  and  the  almost  invisible  foe,  and 
Crane's  fellows,  sending  up  stentorian  cheer  from 
the  stream-bed  below,  drowned  for  the  moment  the 
roar  of  the  waters.  Throwing  out  some  keen  shots 
as  skirmishers  to  prevent  the  reappearance  of  the 
Indians,  Thornton  and  his  troop  leader  signalled 
Crane  to  fall  back  to  a  point  where  the  Sandy 
flowed  in  smooth,  tranquil  reach  for  a  hundred 
yards  or  so,  and  there,  one  side  clambering  down 
the  heights,  the  other  climbing  up,  the  ofiicers 
were  able  to  compare  notes.  The  first  question 
was  as  to  Crane's  losses.  Several  horses  killed, 
three  abandoned,  and  two  men  wounded, — "  but," 
said  he,  "  they've  cleaned  out  some  Mexican  outfit 
a  mile  up-stream.  We  almost  caught  them  at  it." 
And  so,  leaving  the  wounded  with  the  guard  and 


274  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

attendants  to  make  tlie  best  of  tlieir  way  back  to 
the  old  post,  the  two  commands  again  pushed  on 
up-stream, — Crane  on  the  lower  and  Thornton 
following  the  upper  trail,  both  parties  in  single 
file.  Turner  kept  the  front  well  covered  by  a  few 
skirmishers.  Half  an  hour's  march  brought  them 
around  a  wooded  point,  and  there  deep  down  in 
the  gorge, — just  at  the  spot  where  Sanchez  camj^ed 
that  luckless  night  two  years  before, — under  the 
burning  blue  of  the  midsummer  skies  lay  the  wreck 
of  another  "  outfit."  Flood  and  fury  had  scattered 
the  possessions  of  the  former  party  broadcast  down 
the  canon.  Fire  and  flame  and  Tonto  bullet  or 
barb  had  huddled  those  of  the  second  into  a 
blackened  hideous  heap.  Crane  had  followed  in 
very  truth  the  trail  of  the  raiders  at  Kelly's  ranch, 
but  the  murderers  of  the  luckless  Bustamente 
were  his  own  countrymen, — the  robbers  of  Kelly's 
corral  were  Manuel  Cardoza  and  the  genial 
Muncey.  Here  were  the  stiffening  carcasses  of 
the  old  sergeant's  pets, — here  the  half-dozen  pack- 
mules, — packs  and  all, — here  the  mutilated  remains 
of  the  poor  devils  whom  Cardoza  had  abandoned, 
for  up  the  canon  went  the  shod  hoof  tracks  of 
American  horses.  Overtaken  by  Apaches,  two 
well-mounted  leaders  had  left  their  humble  fol- 
lowers to  fight  it  out  as  best  they  could, — and  who 
could  be  the  cowardly  pair  but  Muncey  and 
Cardoza  ? 


SIGNAL   BUTTE.  275 

Extinguishing  tlie  smouldering  jfires,  gathering 
up  such  contents  of  the  saddle-bags  and  apparejoes 
as  were  undamaged  by  the  flames,  Crane's  party, 
watched  by  Thornton's  from  the  opposite  heights, 
slowly  remounted  and  set  forth  on  their  return. 
"  If  Foster  comes  through  the  mountains  with  his 
troop,  tell  him  we'll  join  him  at  the  old  post  in  a 
few  hours,"  sang  out  the  major  from  across  the 
stream.  "  We've  got  to  come  back  for  something 
to  eat  soon  as  we  scout  to  the  north  side,  and  if 
this  be  a  specimen  of  Apache  business,"  added 
Thornton  to  himself,  as  he  slowly  remounted,  "  it's 
too  complicated  campaigning  for  me." 

And  so  by  noon  that  sultry  and  long  remem- 
bered day,  after  burying  the  murdered  Mexicans 
under  cairns  of  stones.  Crane  and  his  wearied  men 
were  jogging  back  within  hail  of  Signal  Butte, 
while  Major  Thornton,  with  Turner  and  some 
twenty  hungry  troopers,  pushed  northward,  deter- 
mined to  scout  the  Socorro  to  the  Prescott  road. 
Turner  still  kept  his  skirmishers  ahead.  There 
was  no  telling  where  the  Indians  might  open  on 
them  from  rock  or  precipice  or  tree.  Kelly,  raging 
in  his  heart  to  think  that  he  had  lost  his  mules 
and  herdsman  through  such  scoundrels  as  Muncey 
and  Cardoza,  attached  himself  closely  to  Turner, 
with  whose  judgment  and  foresight  he  was  now 
greatly  impressed.  It  was  extremely  hot  and  the 
water  in  the  canteens  utterly  undrinkable  by  this 


276  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

time.  The  horses,  too,  were  suffering,  but  it  was 
impossible  to  get  them  down  the  steep  to  the 
dashing  stream,  so  even  when,  after  an  hour's 
weary  marching  over  the  upland  trail,  they  came 
in  sight  of  the  broad  valley  of  the  Sandy  above 
the  range,  Thornton  decided  to  go  on  down  to 
the  lowlands  and  water  before  starting  on  his 
return.  It  was  high  noon,  hot  noon,  a  scorching 
noon,  and  the  men's  eyelids  were  blistered  by  the 
fierce  rays  of  an  unclouded  sun.  They  were 
hungry,  too,  for  not  one  had  had  bite  or  sup  since 
coffee  at  dawn,  but  they  bit  at  their  plug  tobacco 
and  jogged  silently  on,  and  up  to  the  moment  of 
their  catching  sight  again  of  the  old  trail  that 
wound  beside  the  Sandy,  not  an  Indian  had  been 
seen  or  heard  of.  Now  there  rose  into  mid-air 
a  little  dust-cloud  far  out  near  the  Prescott 
road,  telling  of  some  party  in  rapid  movement. 
"Muncey  and  Cardoza  skipping  for  all  they're 
worth,"  hazarded  Kelly,  but  Turner  shook  his 
head.  "  That  cloud's  coming  this  way,"  said  he, 
"and  coming  fast, — and  it's  some  of  our  own 
people." 

And  so  it  proved.  Less  than  half  an  hour  later, 
down  by  the  plashing  waters  the  two  detachments 
came  together.  Comrades  of  the  same  regiment, 
yet  from  stations  miles  apart,  the  sunburned,  dust- 
covered  fellows  from  up  the  Sandy  rode  in  to  the 
welcoming  ranks  from  Retribution.     "  What  news 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  277 

of  the  Indians  ?"  was  naturally  the  first  inquiry, 
and  rapidly  officer  to  officer,  man  to  man,  the 
two  parties  exchanged  views.  The  commander  of 
the  little  party  from  Camp  Sandy  was  a  brave 
soldierly  fellow,  Captain  Tanner  by  name,  and 
with  him  were  two  or  three  experienced  scouts ; 
Al  Zieber  was  one,  a  fellow  who  knew  Apaches 
and  Arizona  even  as  their  old  guide,  Buffalo  Bill, 
knew  the  Pawnees  and  the  Plains.  "  There  isn't 
a  hostile  west  of  the  Sandy  this  day,"  said  he. 
"They've  all  had  their  jump  and  done  what  damage 
they  could,  and  now  they're  skipping  back  to  the 
Mogollon  country."  But  Zieber  looked  grave 
and  troubled  when  told  of  the  deeds  of  the  pre- 
vious night.  ' '  They  are  little  detached  war-parties, ' ' 
said  he.  "  We  may  strike  one  of  them  down  near 
the  Springs,  but  I  doubt  it." 

In  brief  conference  the  officers  decided  what 
should  then  be  done  at  once.  Tanner  sent  his  lieu- 
tenant with  a  "  scout"  of  twenty  men  down  along 
the  north  face  of  the  Socorro  to  find  Foster  and 
follow  full  speed  any  of  the  straggling  Apaches 
whose  trails  they  might  discover,  hoping  even  yet 
to  recapture  Leon.  Then  the  pack-train  came  up, 
and  presently  cook-fires  were  blazing  in  the  timber, 
and  from  the  Camp  Sandy  supplies  a  hearty  dinner 
was  served  out  to  Thornton's  men,  while  Tanner 
proposed  his  plan.  "My  instructions,"  said  he, 
"  were  to  leave  an  escort  of  twenty  men  here  at 

24 


278  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

the  ford  for  the  general's  ambulance, — he  is  hurry- 
ing down  from  Prescott  and  should  be  here  by 
sunset.  We  have  a  little  party  to  meet  him  at  the 
ranch  over  towards  Willow  Creek.  Now,  you  and 
your  men  and  horses  need  a  few  hours'  rest.  Sup- 
pose you  stay  here  with  your  detachment,  and  I'll 
take  my  men  and  see  what  we  can  find  up  yonder 
in  the  hills,"  and  Tanner  pointed  to  the  Socorro. 
"  Leon's  captors  may  be  waiting  there  for  darkness 
before  attempting  to  cross  the  open  country  towards 
the  Mogollon.  You  can  have  four  hours'  sleep 
and  be  ready  to  ride  on  to  Ketribution  with  the 
general  to-night." 

So  said,  so  done.  Soldierly  Tanner  called  up 
his  men,  saddled  and  rode  away.  Thornton's 
horses  were  given  a  good  feed  of  barley  from  the 
j^ack-train,  and  with  a  small  herd  guard  on  duty 
the  rest  of  the  command  sprawled  anywhere  where 
they  could  find  shade,  and  were  snoring  in  ten 
minutes'  time. 

The  sun  went  down  red  in  the  western  sky.  The 
smouldering  fires  in  the  sandy  bottom  began  to 
glow  with  the  deepening  twilight.  One  after 
another  the  troopers  began  to  awaken,  stretch,  and 
yawn,  and  ask  if  further  news  had  come  in,  and 
just  at  nightfall  one  of  Tanner's  sergeants  brought 
in  three  jaded  civilians, — Ferguson  and  his  friends. 
All  night  they  had  hunted  Muncey  without  suc- 
cess.    All  day  they  had  hidden   from  Apaches, 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  279 

who  at  dawn,  said  they,  were  thick  as  leaves  in 
the  Socorro,  and  Ferguson  was  loud  in  his  dis- 
gust at  the  escape  of  the  two  arch-thieves.  And 
not  ten  minutes  after  they  came  in  from  the  south, 
covered  with  dust  and  drawn  by  six  spanking 
mules,  with  a  dozen  grimy  troopers  as  escort,  the 
general's  big  black  ambulance  drove  in  from  the 
north. 

First  to  emerge  from  the  interior  was  a  snappy 
aide-de-camp,  followed  quickly  by  the  grave,  quiet- 
mannered  chief  himself. 

"What's  the  truth  about  Muncey's  party?" 
asked  the  aide,  in  a  gasp.  "  He  and  a  Mexican 
rode  by  us  like  mad, — said  they'd  been  cleaned  out 
completely,  and  were  so  demoralized  they  couldn't 
stop." 

"Only  a  case  of  diamond  cut  diamond,"  an- 
swered Thornton,  briefly.  "  They  had  been  run- 
ning off  horses,  mules,  and  boys  for  what  I  know, 
and  the  Apaches  caught  them  red-handed.  These 
gentlemen,"  said  he,  indicating  Ferguson  and  his 
party,  "  want  them  for  horse-stealing, — Kelly  for 
murder  and  mule-stealing,  and  all  of  us,  I  fancy, 
for  boy-stealing." 

A  tall  man  in  scouting  dress  was  backing  out  of 
the  ambulance  at  the  moment,  helping  a  bright, 
blue-eyed  lad  to  alight.  He  turned  in  quick 
anxiety  as  the  general  asked,  "  What  boy  ?" 

"  Leon,  sir, — little  MacDuff.     If  he  wasn't  with 


280 


SIGNAL   BUTTE. 


Muncey,  I'm  sore  afraid  the  Apaches  have  got 
him." 

Whereupon  the  blue-eyed  boy  burst  into  tears. 
"Oh,  father,"  he  cried^  ^"^have  we  come  too  late 
after  all?" 


CHAPTER    VIL 


Major  Cullen,  hastening  back  to  the  field  of 
duty,  had  made  much  quicker  time  than  even  he 
had  thought  possible.  Alighting  from  the  Central 
Pacific  express  at  the  Oakland  wharf  at  eight 
o'clock  of  the  fair  June  evening,  the  little  party- 
was  met  by  an  aide-de-camp  of  the  general  com- 
manding the  military  division  of  the  Pacific,  whose 
head-quarters  were  in  San  Francisco,  and,  as  they 
steamed  across  the  beautiful  bay  towards  the  grea.t 
city  of  the  Golden  Gate,  with  its  myriad  lights 
rivalling  the  reflected  images  of  the  stars,  the 
latest  tidings  from  Apache  land  were  unfolded. 
The  military  telegraph,  the  pioneer  of  its  kind, 
had  not  then  been  strung  across  the  Mohave  Desert, 
and  all  communication  between  Arizona  and  the 
nearest  telegraph  station — Drum  Barracks,  at  Wil- 
mington, on  the  California  coast — was  by  courier 
or  buckboard,  and  it  was  here,  instead  of  in  Ari- 

24*  281 


282  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

zona,  that  for  a  time  the  department  commanders 
had  been  allowed  to  establish  their  office.  It  was 
here  that  the  news  of  the  revolt  at  the  reservation 
was  received  by  the  new  commander, — here  that 
he  had  wired  to  Cullen  and  received  his  reply, — 
here,  a  few  days  later,  that  there  was  brought  to 
him  the  tidings  of  the  general  uprising.  Unlike 
his  predecessors,  the  new  general  commanding  this 
remote  field  decided  that  the  place  from  which  to 
direct  operations  was  not  Drum  Barracks,  several 
hundred  miles  from  the  scene,  but  the  heart  of  the 
Indian  country,  and  thither  he  went,  fast  as  buck- 
board  could  bear  him. 

"Tell  Cullen  he'll  find  me  somewhere  in  the 
Sandy  Valley  or  Tonto  Basin,"  he  said  to  his  ad- 
jutant-general as  he  drove  away,  and  this  message 
was  placed  in  Cullen's  hands  as,  with  his  silent  and 
devoted  wife  by  his  side  and  Bandy  looking  eagerly 
into  his  face,  he  was  borne  swifty  over  the  dancing 
waters. 

"  That  means  that  the  general  expects  them  to 
leave  the  mountains  and  raid  the  mines  and  settle- 
ments," said  he,  reflectively.  "What's  the  first 
stage  or  steamer  down  the  coast  ?" 

"  Nothing  now  before  to-morrow  night,"  was  the 
reply,  "  unless  you  can  catch  the '  Maritana.'  She's 
off  for  Santa  Barbara  and  Wilmington  with  sup- 
plies and  ammunition  in  about  an  hour."  Mrs. 
Cullen  gave  a  little  shiver  and  drew  closer  to  her 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  283 

soldier  husband's  side,  but  said  no  word.  She 
knew  that  what  he  conceived  to  be  the  soldier's 
duty  would  rule. 

"  Then  you  and  Kandall  will  go  with  Captain 
Thorpe  to  mother's,"  he  gently  said,  after  a  mo- 
ment's thought,  "  and  I  will  take  the  boat." 

But  when  the  *'  Marllana"  sailed  that  night  the 
major's  family  went  with  him.  Mrs.  Cullen  calmly 
announced  her  intention  of  going  back  to  Arizona 
with  her  husband,  and  accepting  the  warmly  prof- 
fered hospitality  of  the  general's  wife  until  their 
new  quarters  should  be  in  readiness.  The  mail 
buckboard  went  on  across  the  California  desert 
within  an  hour  of  the  '^  Maritana's"  arrival,  and 
while  Mrs.  Cullen  was  cordially  welcomed  by  the 
little  colony  of  army  wives  and  mothers  at  Wil- 
mington, her  husband  and  her  only  son  hurried 
on  to  overtake  the  chief.  It  was  with  infinite  mis- 
giving that  she  had  let  Randall  go,  but  the  boy 
pleaded  with  all  his  heart  and  soul,  and  the  father 
decided.  "  I  promised  him  that  he  should  cross 
the  desert  with  me,"  he  said,  "instead  of  going 
round  by  sea,  as  he  has  both  ways  thus  far,  and  he 
will  be  as  safe  at  Prescott  or  Camp  Sandy  or  Ret- 
ribution as  he  is  here, — and  Mrs.  C 's  house  is 

crowded  now.  He  is  wild  to  meet  Leon  again,  and 
the  two  boys  can  remain  together  at  the  post  while 
I'm  in  the  field.  I'm  only  afraid  the  fun  will  be 
all  over  before  we  get  there." 


284  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

And  so  it  was  settled.  Many  a  time  before  the 
boy  bad  been  bis  father's  companion  in  mountain 
bunt  or  scout,  but  never  when  the  Apacbes  were 
swarming  as  at  tbis  moment.  "We  sball  find 
none  of  tbem  west  of  Date  Creek,"  said  Cullen, 
"  and  east  of  tbere  our  escort  will  be  too  formidable 
for  them  to  jump.  Have  no  fear  for  him."  But 
what  mother  could  banish  fear  for  the  safety  of 
her  only  boy  ?  No  one  saw  her  parting  with  the 
brave,  eager,  blue-eyed  little  fellow.  Devotedly 
though  he  loved  her,  he  was  soldier  all  over,  like 
his  father,  and  eager  to  act  the  soldier's  part, — 
eager  to  go  with  him  to  the  seat  of  war,  over  moun- 
tain-pass and  desert  and  treacherous  stream-bed, 
regretting,  if  anything,  that  tbere  was  no  likeli- 
hood of  encountering  Indians  on  the  way.  Her 
heart  was  wrung, — yet,  like  many  and  many 
another  army  mother  of  the  old  army  days,  she 
simply  had  to  face  the  inevitable.  She  was  to 
follow  with  the  general's  wife  and  their  party  of 
ladies,  children,  and  servants  by  steamer  around 
old  California,  and  up  the  gulf  to  the  Colorado, 
within  the  fortnight.  By  the  time  they  reached 
Fort  Yuma  the  outbreak  would  probably  be  all 
over  and  the  Indians  back  in  their  mountain  homes, 
— the  troops  in  garrison.  It  was  one  of  those  tem- 
porary separations  mothers  elsewhere  marvelled  at 
and  declared  impossible,  but  that  army  mothers 
wept  over  yet  bowed  to.     Night  and  day  for  forty- 


I 


SIGNAL  BUTTE,  285 

eight  hours,  while  she  prayed  for  them  within 
sound  of  the  Pacific  surges,  father  and  son  whirled 
rapidly  eastward  across  the  turbid  Colorado,  rest- 
ing only  an  hour  at  Ehrenberg,  where  they  changed 
buckboard,  mules,  and  driver;  then,  pushing  on 
again  by  starlight,  gradually  rising  from  billow  to 
billow  of  the  long  leagues  of  desolation  to  the  wild 
and  picturesque  scenery  of  the  Sierras, — then 
through  resinous  forests  of  pine,  through  rocky 
cafion  and  winding  gorge,  until  they  were  landed, 
stiff  and  sore,  dusty,  hungry,  and  thirsty,  among 
the  log  huts  of  the  little  garrison  at  old  Fort 
Whipple,  catching  the  department  commander  just 
two  days  before  even  that  impatient  soldier  thought 
it  possible. 

Then,  after  a  refreshing  bath  and  a  few  hours' 
rest,  in  the  general's  own  big  ambulance  and  es- 
corted now  by  wary  troopers,  away  they  went  for 
the  valley  of  the  Sandy.  Everything  indicated, 
said  the  chief,  that  the  Indians,  after  wiping  out 
the  Santa  Anita  settlements,  had  swooped  upon  the 
lower  valley  while  the  garrison  at  Retribution  was 
in  its  state  of  transition, — and  very  probably  they 
had  made  it  lively  for  Thornton.  Couriers  had 
rushed  to  Colonel  Pelham  at  Camp  Sandy  with 
orders  to  send  strong  columns  southward  at  once, 
one  of  them  following  the  valley  to  meet  the  gen- 
eral at  the  fords  just  above  Apache  Canon.  Away 
sped  their  fine  six-mule  team  down  through  the 


286  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

fertile  Hassayampa, — across  to  the  broad  valley  of 
Willow  Creek,  changing  mules  and  escort  at  the 
mountain  ranch,  and  getting  all  manner  of  startling 
news  and  rumors  on  the  way.  Away  at  last  for 
the  Sandy,  passing  early  in  the  afternoon,  while 
Randy  was  dozing  in  his  corner,  the  foam-covered, 
dust-begrimed  pair, — Muncey  and  Cardoza, — "  too 
badly  stampeded  to  stop  and  talk,"  said  the  ser- 
geant commanding  the  escort,  "  but  shouting  that 
they  alone  had  escaped." 

"  We  should  reach  Retribution  by  midnight," 
said  the  general.  "And  just  won't  I  hunt  up 
Leon  and  wake  him  and  hug  him  the  moment  I 
get  there,  and  won't  he.  be  amazed !"  said  Randall, 
joyfully. 

The  story  of  the  boy's  long  tramp  for  home  was 
familiar  to  one  and  all  by  this  time,  and  had  won 
the  little  fellow  a  host  of  friends  among  officers 
and  soldiers  alike.  "  No  one  can  believe  what  that 
fellow  Muncey  says,  though  I  have  reason  to  think 
the  Apaches  have  reached  the  Sandy,"  said  the 
general.  And  so,  on  they  went,  rattling  and  bump- 
ing and  jolting  down  the  winding  road  to  the  east 
of  the  range,  and  at  last  pulled  up  in  the  midst  of 
Turner's  troop  at  nightfall,  and  then  for  the  first 
time  did  Randall  dream  that  his  friend  and  play- 
mate— his  almost  foster-brother — was  gone,  and 
no  one  could  say  how  or  where. 

Tired  and  drowsy  as  he  had  been  during  the 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  287 

long  liot  day, — tired  as  all  miglit  well  be,  tliere 
was  no  thought  of  weariness  now.  In  breathless 
interest  the  little  party  listened  to  Major  Thorn- 
ton's description  of  the  events  of  the  previous 
nio'ht,  Kandall's  heart  throbbinp-  hard  as  he  heard 
of  Leon's  brave  ride  for  Mrs.  Downey's  sake,  and 
his  tears  raining  afresh  as  Thornton  told  how  they 
had  found  the  pony  after  daybreak,  pierced  with 
Apache  arrows  near  the  butte.  "  Had  they  searched 
the  butte  itself?"  asked  the  general. 

"  Every  crevice  of  it,  sir,"  replied  Sergeant 
Charlton,  who  had  found  the  pony.  "  There  was 
no  trace  of  him  there." 

"  Indeed,  there  was  no  place  there  where  he 
could  hide,"  said  Eandall,  sadly.  "We  had 
hunted  and  played  scout  all  over  it, — all  over 
the  neighborhood,  in  fact.  The  only  places  we 
had  to  hide  were  in  the  old  caiion  itself,  because 
we  believed  there  the  Indians  wouldn't  come." 

"And  you  had  some  hiding-places  in  there?" 
asked  the  general,  placing  his  sunburned  hand  on 
Kandall's  shoulder  and  looking  kindly  down  into 
the  boy's  brimming  blue  eyes. 

"  Yes,  sir,  three  or  four  of  them.  We  had  two 
down  under  the  cliffs  near  the  south  end  and 
another  up  by  the  cove  where  old  Sanchez  camped, 
— near  where  they  were  when  the  cloud-burst 
struck  them.  We  were  up  tliere  twice  only  ten 
weeks  ago,"  and  again  Randy's  lips  were  quivering, 


288  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

thougli  lie  fouglit  manfully  to  control  his  grief. 
"  We  had  a  regular  little  cache  of  stores  there— 
hard-tack  and  cheese  and  frijoles— in  case  we  ever 
had  to  hide  there  when  we  were  hunting." 

"  You'll  make  a  good  frontiersman  one  of  these 
days,  Randall,"  said  the  bearded  chief,  calmly 
glancing  at  his  watch.  "  I  shouldn't  be  surprised 
if  you  and  Leon  could  teach  us  a  thing  or  two 
worth  knowing  now.  Now,  Cullen,  I've  got  to 
push  right  on  for  Retribution, — the  new  post. 
We'll  pick  up  Tanner's  people  on  the  way  and 
take  a  few  of  Turner's  men  from  here.  Thornton 
and  Turner  can  go  on  with  me,  and  you  and 
Randy  take  their  horses  and  a  dozen  men  and 
search  the  cafion  to-night.  It's  my  belief  that 
your  little  protege  has  given  both  crowds  the  slip, 
and  that  if  he  is  in  the  land  of  the  living  Randy 
can  find  him." 

It  was  then  nine  o'clock  of  another  hot,  still, 
cloudless,  starlit  night.  In  ten  minutes,  with  a  few 
words  of  encouragement  to  the  boy  and  a  cordial 
hand-shake  and  pat  of  the  shoulder,  the  general 
bade  them  all  good-night,  sprang  lightly  into  his 
ambulance,  the  aide-de-camp  following,  and  away 
it  went,  escort  and  all,  splashing  through  the 
Sandy.  Half  an  hour  later.  Major  Cullen  was 
once  again  in  saddle  among  the  old  familiar  scenes, 
and,  followed  by  Randy,  Sergeant  Kelly  (who  was 
overjoyed  to  welcome  back  his  old  captain),  and  a 


SIGNAL  BUTTE,  289 

dozen  troopers  who  had  never  yet  served  with  him 
but  knew  him  well,  as  soldiers  will,  by  reputation, 
the  major  rode  on  down-stream  to  where,  dark  and 
frowning,  the  black  gate  loomed  before  them. 
Kandall  in  his  mad  impatience  to  be  off  could 
hardly  wait  for  the  men  to  be  served  with  coffee 
and  the  horses  with  a  bait  of  barley  before  starting 
on  the  night-ride  through  the  dim  and  ghostly 
chasm.  Old  Kelly  gave  them  constant  encourage- 
ment. "  If  he  was  caught  by  Apaches  and  killed 
we'd  surely  have  come  upon  his  body,  Masther 
Randall,"  said  he ;  '*'  and  after  he  fired  that  beacon, 
and  Muncey's  outfit  and  the  Apaches  ran  foul  of 
each  other,  neither  party  wanted  to  be  burdened 
with  a  boy.  But  the  Apaches  were  between  him 
and  the  old  post.  He's  had  only  one  place  to  run 
for,  and  that  was  the  cafion.  Muncey's  outfit 
probably  reached  it  almost  at  the  same  time,  and 
he  had  to  hide  from  both.  By  this  time,  it's  my 
belief,  he's  stolen  out  and  made  his  way  back  to 
the  old  post." 

It  was  nearly  midnight  when  Cullen,  riding  at 
brisk  walk  at  the  head  of  the  column,  pointed 
silently  to  the  huge  black  bulk  of  precipice  over- 
hanging the  Sandy  a  few  yards  ahead.  It  was 
so  dark  that  only  by  giving  the  horse  his  head 
and  an  occasional  prod  with  the  spurred  heel  the 
leader  could  follow  the  winding  trail.  "We're 
within  a  few  rods  of  the  Sanchez  camp,"  muttered 

N        t  26 


290  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

Kelly  to  the  impatient  boy.  "  The  cafion  opens 
out  just  below  here." 

"  I  know,"  said  Randall,  briefly.  "  I'm  wild  to 
signal  to  Leon  now.  He  knows  my  call  as  well  as 
a  bird  knows  its  mate." 

"  Ah,  but  it  isn't  up  here  ye'll  find  him,  Masther 
Randall,"  said  the  old  man,  striving  to  prepare  the 
boy  for  disappointment.  "  It's  too  far  for  him  to 
have  come,  and  even  if  they  had  fetched  him  this 
far,  he'd  be  working  back  now  for  the  post,  where 
Mrs.  Kelly  and  the  girls  will  be  'mazin'  glad  to  see 
him." 

But  no  sooner  had  the  leader  of  the  little  column 
passed  the  base  of  the  cliff  than  Randall  urged 
his  horse  forward  to  his  father's  side.  "I  can 
tell  it  in  the  dark,"  said  he.  "  May  I  go  ahead  ?" 
Cullen  nodded,  and  the  boy  spurred  eagerly  on. 
The  Sandy  roared  and  rushed  close  by  the  trail  as 
it  turned  the  point,  then  more  placidly  swept  along 
over  some  pebbly  shallows  where  the  heights  on 
the  western  side  fell  away  and  gave  place  to  a  deep 
and  sheltered  nook.  They  had  reached  the  spot 
where  the  Sanchez  party  was  camped  when  over- 
whelmed by  the  cloud-burst,  where  the  luckless 
Mexicans  that  very  morning,  following  blindly 
their  rascally  leader,  were  corralled  and  massacred 
without  mercy.  Their  bodies,  as  we  have  seen, 
had  been  buried  by  Crane's  party,  but  the  stiffened 
and  broken  carcasses  of  the  mules  still  lay  there, 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  291 

already  beginning  to  taint  the  summer  air.  The 
major  had  expected  Randy  to  turn  into  the  cove, 
but  the  boy  pushed  sturdily  ahead. 

"How  much  farther,  Randall?"  he  asked,  in 
low  tone. 

"  Two  hundred  yards  or  so,  father.  There's  a 
pitahaya  *  right  opposite  the  place." 

Then  for  a  moment  more  the  click,  click  of  the 
iron-shod  hoofs  along  the  stony  trail  and  the  soft 
rush  of  the  waters  were  the  only  sounds  to  break 
the  silence  of  the  night.  Dark  and  shadowy,  still 
in  single  file,  the  party  rode  unerringly  on,  Ran- 
dall leading.  The  boy's  heart  was  bounding  with 
hope  and  eagerness.  The  grief  which  had  over- 
come him  when  told  of  Leon's  probable  fate  had 
given  place  to  high  and  spirited  resolve  to  play  a 
man's  part  in  the  effort  to  rescue  him.  What  boy 
with  a  drop  of  soldier  blood  in  his  veins  would 
not  rejoice  in  being  a  "  leader  of  men"  amidst  such 
surroundings  and  on  such  a  quest?  No  trooper 
could  see  more  than  the  dim  outline  of  his  file- 
leader,  but  Major  Cullen's  eyes  rejoiced  in  the 
alert,  soldierly  bearing  of  his  son.  They  had 
almost  passed  the  cove  and  were  once  more  entering 
the  black  shadow  of  the  cliff  when  Randall's  horse 
shied  suddenly,  stumbled  and  went  down  on  his 
knees.     The  boy's  deft,  practised  hand  had  him 

*  Pitahaya,  the  giant  cactus-tree. 


292  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

up  in  an  instant,  but  something  went  slinking 
away  down  the  bank  and,  over  on  the  opposite 
shore,  the  wild,  weird  cry  of  the  lynx,  half  snarl, 
half  warning,  rose  above  the  rush  of  the  stream. 
Somewhere  farther  down  the  echoing  canon  the  cry 
was  taken  up  and  repeated,  and  old  Kelly  growled 
aloud.  *'  The  major  knows  best,  sir,  but  if  there's 
Apaches  hanging  about  here  anywhere  that's  the 
way  they'd  be  signalling  maybe,  and  I  wouldn't 
like  to  have  them  heaving  rocks  down  on  Masther 
Eandall." 

"  We're  almost  there  now,  father,"  spoke  the  boy 
for  himself.  "  They  can't  roll  rocks  on  us  once  I 
get  you  in  there.  There's  our  landmark  now." 
And  right  ahead,  around  another  abrupt  shoulder 
or  cliff,  there  loomed  up  through  the  night  the 
shaft  of  a  tall  cactus, — the  Cereus  giganteiis  of  the 
Gila  Basin, — and  here  again  the  heights  broke 
away,  and  through  a  broad  opening  to  the  right 
the  stars  peeped  down  in  silvery  splendor.  Un- 
hesitatingly the  boy  led  on  into  this  nook  of  the 
mountains.  One  after  another  the  click  of  hoofs 
on  the  rocks  gave  place  to  soft  thud  upon  the 
yielding  turf,  and  presently,  as  Randall  reined  in 
and  threw  himself  from  the  saddle,  the  party 
gathered  in  silence  around  him. 

"  It's  quite  ^  climb  from  here,"  he  said.  "  Will 
you  come,  father, — and  Kelly?  The  rest  had 
better  stay." 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  293 

A  trooper  took  their  reins.  Silently  the  boy- 
led  on,  bending  low  and  searching  the  foot-trail. 
In  a  minute  they  were  climbing  some  steep  as- 
cent, slowly,  cautiously.  Presently  they  reached 
the  little  ledge  of  rock  and  stopped  to  breathe. 
Down  in  the  depths  of  the  cove  a  trooper  struck  a 
match  to  light  his  pipe,  and  the  stern  voice  of  Ser- 
geant Charlton  reproved  him  with,  "Don't  you 
know  that  if  there  are  Indians  about,  that's  a  sure 
way  of  telling  them  where  to  fire." 

"  I've  got  to  light  a  match  in  a  minute,  father," 
said  Randall,  "  but  it  will  be  so  far  in  the  cleft  it 
won't  be  seen  above."  Then  once  again  he  pushed 
on,  still  climbing  some  old  game-trail.  About  two 
hundred  feet  above  the  bottom  he  stopped,  his  heart 
beating  hard.  "  I'm  going  to  give  our  signal,"  he 
whispered.  "It's  one  we  had  when  we  played 
scout." 

A  moment  of  silence,  and  then  in  low,  mellow 
whistle  two  notes,  not  unlike  the  "Bob  White" 
pipe  of  our  quail,  were  lifted  on  the  night  air. 
Breathless,  all  the  troopers  far  below — the  little 
party  on  the  hill-side — waited  the  result.  "  The 
boy's  right,"  muttered  old  Kelly  to  himself  "  If 
Leon's  in  hiding  from  Apaches  anywhere  here, 
he'll  welcome  that  call."  No  answer  came,  and 
once  again,  a  little  louder,  Randall  piped  anew. 
Still  no  result,  and  with  a  sob  in  his  voice  the  boy 
turned. 

25* 


294  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

"  I'll  not  give  ujd  till  I've  searched  the  cave,'*  he 
said ;  "  but  he'd  have  answered  if  he'd  heard,"  and 
so  once  more  led  on.  Presently  they  came  to  a 
deep  cleft  in  a  bold  outcropping  of  rock,  and  into 
this  Eandall  cautiously  turned.  "Keep  a  few 
yards  behind  me,"  he  whispered ;  "  I've  got  to 
light  my  match." 

One  moment,  and  with  a  snap  and  flare  the 
blue  flame  of  the  lucifer  flashed  upon  their  sight, 
slowly  turned  to  a  yellow-red,  and  was  lifted 
towards  a  dark  aperture  in  the  rock.  One  instant 
of  hesitation, — of  doubt  and  bitter  disappointment, 
— and  the  boy  passed  stealthily  in.  Then  some- 
thing seemed  to  stir  far  back  in  the  dark.  There 
was  a  sudden  start, — a  stifled  gasp.  Then  a  simul- 
taneous cry,  "  Leon  !"  "  Randy  !"  And  in  a  con- 
fusion of  sounds  of  scrambling  and  hugging,  and 
something  suspiciously  like  sobbing  and  laughter 
intermingled,  the  match  went  out. 

When,  after  a  moment's  lull,  old  Kelly  struck  a 
light  and  peered  with  moistened  eyes,  the  boys 
were  apparently  doing  a  bear-dance  together,  and 
a  bear-dance  consists  in  hugging  one's  partner 
tight  as  tight  can  and  hopping  up  and  down, 
around  and  around, — and  then  the  word  went 
down  the  heights  in  a  jubilant  shout,  and  was 
answered  by  a  soldier  cheer,  "  MacDuff"  is  found, — 
all  right !" 

What  a  story  Leon  had  to  tell  when  late  that 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  295 

night  they  sat  about  the  camp-fire !  Riding  back 
from  the  new  post,  his  pony  had  shied  in  an  arroyo 
some  two  miles  from  the  Sandy,  and  he  had  lost 
his  hat  in  the  dark.  Then,  while  hunting  for  it, 
the  pony  took  a  notion  to  wander,  and  was  pres- 
ently lost  to  view.  Dismayed,  Leon  searched  over 
the  flats,  but  to  no  purpose.  Not  until  the  dawn 
was  breaking  did  he  come  upon  him  again,  close  to 
Signal  Butte,  quietly  grazing ;  and  then,  all  on  a 
sudden,  he  heard  the  firing  at  Kelly's,  and  in  less 
than  no  time  a  dozen  shadowy  forms  flitted  be- 
tween him  and  the  distant  guard-lights  at  the  post, 
and  he  realized  that  the  Apaches  were  in  the  valley. 
Leaving  his  pony  to  his  own  devices,  Leon  climbed 
the  rocky  height  and,  taking  no  thought  of  his 
own  danger,  fired  the  beacon.  Then,  hurrying 
down  in  hopes  of  escape,  discovered  several  In- 
dians rushing  for  the  butte,  saw  that  his  retreat  to 
the  post  was  cut  off",  and  made  with  all  speed  for  the 
canon,  thinking  to  hide  in  safety  there  until  the 
coast  was  clear ;  but  they  followed,  or  at  least  he 
thought  it  was  they.  He  heard  the  shouts  and 
hoof-beats  at  the  entrance.  Terror  lent  him  wings, 
and  he  ran  like  a  deer  up  the  gorge.  Walking 
and  running,  an  hour's  flight  brought  him,  almost 
exhausted,  to  their  cove  of  refuge.  Here  he  clam- 
bered to  the  cave  and  there  lay  for  hours,  listening 
later  to  the  shouts  and  sounds  of  battle,  never 
daring  to  creep  forth  even  when  nightfall  came, 


296  SIGNAL  BUTTE. 

and,  after  long  hours  of  vigil,  worn  out,  lie  fell 
asleep,  only  to  wake  in  Randall's  arms. 

Leaving  the  boys  to  the  care  of  his  friends  at  the 
new  post,  Major  Cullen,  with  three  troops  of  his 
new  regiment,  chased  the  scattering  Apaches  out 
of  the  Tonto  Basin  without  further  loss  to  settler 
or  soldier.  They  had  had  their  dance,  and  had 
sense  enough  to  know  when  to  quit. 

Old  Fort  Retribution  is  only  a  memory  now. 
Apache  Cafion  is  threaded  by  a  narrow-gauge  rail- 
way. A  populous  settlement  has  sprung  up  in  the 
Santa  Anita.  Kelly's  ranch  is  owned  by  one  of 
the  Kellys,  but  under  another  name, — that  of  her 
husband, — for  the  old  sergeant  was  gathered  to  his 
fathers  long  years  ago.  Muncey  never  came  back, 
even  when  the  Santa  Anita  mines  were  worth  re- 
visiting,— even  when  the  claim  of  MacNutt  and 
Murray  was  sold  to  good  advantage  and  Leon's 
sole  benefit.  Ferguson's  beautiful  roan  had  reap- 
peared after  a  time,  as  did  Ferguson  and  his 
friends,  and  they  said  they  found  her  over  in  the 
Agua  Fria  country,  where  Muncey  and  Cardoza 
seemed  to  have  run  foul  of  the  Apaches  again,  and 
this  time  without  escape.  At  any  rate.  Apaches 
were  seen  there  just  a  day  or  so  before  the  runa- 
ways, and  they  covered  a  multitude  of  sins.  The 
old  butte  flamed  its  signal  once  again  long  years 
later,  when  the  Indians  had  an  outbreak  on  the 
Cibicu,  but  that  was  after  Pelham  and  the  — th 


SIGNAL  BUTTE.  297 

had  served  their  five  years  in  Arizona,  and,  with 
Major  Cullen  and  Kandall,  left  for  the  new  stations 
in  Kansas  and  Nebraska  and  for  long  campaigns 
against  their  old  friends,  the  Sioux  and  Cheyennes. 
By  this  time  the  boys  had  spent  their  high-school 
days  in  San  Francisco  and  were  sprouting  down 
upon  their  sun-tanned  cheeks  and  planning  for 
future  years  of  service  in  the  life  they  loved ;  and 
the  last  time  I  saw  them  was  some  ten  years  ago, — 
Leon  a  stout,  stalwart  sergeant  in  the  cavalry, — 
Randall  riding,  a  platoon  commander  in  his 
father's  regiment, — all  the  better  soldiers,  both  of 
them,  for  the  boy  days  in  scout  and  saddle  around 
Apache  Cafion  and  under  the  shadows  of  old  Signal 
Butte. 


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